The Sunlight Girl
by cellostargalactica
Summary: Auruo Bossard was twelve when he knew he would marry her. Later that night his mother would rumple his messy hair and tell him with a laugh that he was much too young to make proclamations, that he had his whole life to figure it out. But he insisted. He knew, the way you know about ripe fruit and oncoming storms, the way you ache sometimes from a hurt you haven't yet sustained.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So I've very recently gotten into Attack on Titan. I was expecting to ship something because I can't really watch or experience a new piece of media without shipping something, but to my surprise I started shipping THESE CHARACTERS, shipping it so hard that the outline for a longfic strolled into my head almost fully formed. So here we are. Fellow Petruo shippers, this is my offering to the ship. **

_Part 1 – The Sunlight Girl _

Auruo Bossard was twelve when he knew he would marry her.

Later that night his mother would rumple his messy hair, pinch his cheek, and tell him with a laugh that he was much too young to make proclamations, that he had his whole life to figure things out, and anyway hadn't he just meet the girl? But he insisted. He _knew, _the way you know about ripe fruit and oncoming storms, the way you ache sometimes from a hurt you haven't yet sustained.

By the end of the day he would know this, but right this moment, a few minutes before noon, all he knew was that he was eleven for a few hours more, and it was the last time in his life he'd have the privilege of being bored. He plunked down at the side of the river and worked his shoes off, tossing them aside with a petulant sigh before plunging his feet into the cool water. Slow, fat clouds passed in front of the sun, and somewhere in the distance he could hear Gerrard and his friends laughing. Though he didn't know what was so funny, his ears burned and his stomach twisted. He felt like they were laughing at him anyway.

Tomorrow he would present himself to the foreman and officially join the workforce. He would work alongside his father, refining steel for the military. He would start off shoveling coal, but when he got a little older and stronger he would be promoted to actually forging the blades. He would have to try and forget why that was ironic.

Scowling, he pried a loose stone from the street and turned it over in his hands. It was smooth and flat, the surface of it speckled with light. Winding back, he threw it into the river. The stone skipped once before slipping beneath the surface, and ripples spread from each disturbance, mingling with the direction of the water. For some reason, the sight of it brought a hard lump to his throat. This might be the last day of boredom, but it was also the last day of freedom – as free as anyone could be within the Walls, anyway. It was the last day he could slip out of his hectic house to skip stones by the river.

He felt a bit guilty about using his last days of freedom to escape from his family, but lately everything they did drove him crazy. The beatific expression his mother wore as she went about her daily business infuriated him –it just wasn't possible for someone to be so content with so little! To make matters worse, his infant brother Benoit had colic. His wails were so piercing that it was all Auruo could do to keep from screaming himself, yet his mother only ever smiled and rocked the baby as she worked.

She might have gone deaf. That must be it.

"Hey, old man!"

Something hard struck him square in the back and knocked him from his perch on the riverbank. He pitched forward, flailing for purchase before crashing into the river headfirst. The current was slow in this part of town and the bank was fairly shallow, but the water itself was freezing. With a surge of anger, he resurfaced and crawled onto the bank, spluttering for breath, biting down hard on his tongue to keep his teeth from chattering.

Of course. It was Gerrard and his cronies, standing with feet planted wide apart, arms crossed, like some stupid gang. Gerrard had even found a cigarette and clamped it between his thin lips, posing like he was some tough ass thug. "W-what the fuck are you d-doing?" Auruo spat.

Gerrard sneered. "Don't think your fat mommy'd like hearing you use that kind of language, old man."

"Leave her out of this," Auruo snapped as he got to his feet, painfully aware that he was weedy and scrawny, that he had a skinny neck and knobby knees, that he looked just like his father, who himself looked ten years older than he was. Hence the name. "What do you want?"

"Just wanted to wish you happy birthday," Gerrard said innocently, sucking on the unlit cigarette. _Like a jackass, _Auruo thought. _He's such an idiot he thinks it's makes him look cool. _

"Thanks," he said flatly. "Go away."

"Aw, come on, Bossard. At least let us say goodbye."

He blinked. "Goodbye?"

"Yeah, you deaf?" The cronies snickered, like being deaf was something to laugh at. The anger he was trying so desperately to swallow flared in his stomach. "We're off to the Training Corps. Going to join the Military Police in three years."

Auruo scoffed. "You? Get into the Military Police? You guys can't even fight me unless my back is turned."

"Yeah, we'll see about that," Gerrard said, and the smug jocularity in his voice was replaced by menace and intent. He looked at Auruo like a meal, or a bug to be crushed, and for a moment Auruo wondered if perhaps Gerrard would make an effective soldier after all.

It would have been smarter if Auruo had just nodded and smiled until Gerrard and his dumb friends lost interest, but Auruo didn't feel like being smart. He was soaked and freezing and so angry he wanted to snatch that ridiculous cigarette right out of Gerrard's smug mouth. So he did. Before anyone could react, he tossed it into the river and watched with satisfaction as the current carried it away.

"Woops," he said. And he grinned Titan wide.

Gerrard didn't even blink; he wound up and punched Auruo with so much force that he flew back, hitting the ground hard. Before he could scramble to his feet, his friends had flanked him, forcing him to his knees. He struggled, thrashing, cursing himself blue in the face, but he was not strong enough to throw off the cronies. Gerrard kicked him in the ribs once, twice, again and again until Auruo couldn't breathe from the pain, and it was a thousand times worse than being dumped in the freezing river. He felt consciousness ebb, but still he thrashed, still he fought – he'd go down fighting, if it was the last thing he ever did –

"Stop!"

Gerrard pulled away and the cronies released their hold on Auruo's arms. His head swam and each breath hurt bad enough to bring tears to his eyes, but he looked to the source of the command. It was a girl in a yellow dress who had spoken, with strawberry blonde hair braided halfway down her back. She was small and quite skinny, with a petite mouth and a slightly upturned nose. Objectively ordinary, but her eyes were what caught Auruo; they burned with fury, in a color he had never seen. She strode toward them, her delicate hands clenched into fists. "Leave him alone!" the girl commanded. Commanded! Though she was even smaller and skinner than Auruo!

And somehow, Gerrard obeyed. He took a step back, his hands held up. "We were just having some fun, right old man?"

Auruo coughed. He could rat that shithead out and look like a wimp, or go along with his story and save a little face in front of the strange girl. Though he'd rather choke than do anything to help Gerrard, he finally nodded. "Right," he muttered.

Gerrard gestured to his friends, and without another word the three of them beat a hasty retreat, disappearing behind the apothecary before the strange girl could say another word to them. And oddly, Auruo was almost sorry for their absence. Now that they were gone, there was nothing to keep her from turning the full force of her scrutiny to him.

Her eyes softened as she studied him, in all his scrawny, old man glory. His face burned. "Are you okay?" she asked.

He nodded, struggling to compose himself. His mouth hurt, his ribs hurt, he was soaked to his bones and freezing, and he thought that Gerrard might have even chipped one of his teeth.

"You're bleeding," the girl said. She dug through the pocket of her cardigan until she'd produced a handkerchief, and, so gently that it nearly hurt, dabbed at his split lip.

He tried to pull away. "I'll ruin it," he said in a hearty voice.

But she persisted. "Blood washes out."

He'd never known a person to be so brave, and yet so kind. She was closer, now, and he could see a nearly translucent smattering of freckles scattered across her cheekbones. Her eyes narrowed as she pressed the handkerchief to corner of his mouth, and she captured her own lower lip between her teeth in an unconscious, sympathetic gesture. When she looked up at him again, an odd feeling curled in his stomach.

"Thanks," he said, biting the corner of his tongue hard.

"You're welcome," said the girl. "I'm Petra. What's your name?"

"A-Auruo," he said. At first he'd hoped to escape before exchanging names, because there was something strangely permanent about it, but the impulse faded as soon as she smiled, and it was a smile that completely transformed her face. She was no longer scrawny and small but radiant, a sunlight girl in a yellow dress.

And that's when he knew.

* * *

Petra stared at the strange boy named Auruo, and as she watched a furious blush crept across his cheeks. She wasn't going to lie – she pitied him, but that pity was mingled with respect. She'd seen bullies go after the weak in her old village, and she'd expected she'd see it here too. But Auruo had not acted as most bullied children did; head down, trying to make themselves small, a survivor's reaction. He had fought, against sense or logic, even when outnumbered three to one, even when victory had been hopeless. And it fascinated her.

"Why were they beating you?" she asked him bluntly.

He shrugged. "They're assholes." A pause. "And … well, Gerrard was sucking on this stupid unlit cigarette – Gerrard was the guy kicking me – and it was just so stupid looking. Like you could just tell he thought it made him look tough. Like a thug." He fell silent and scuffed the ground with his feet, which she realized were bare. "So I threw it in the river."

She could picture it, and she giggled. "That wasn't smart."

"No," Auruo agreed, and for the first time since she'd meet him, he grinned. He had a nice smile. "Felt pretty good though."

"They pushed you in the river too, didn't they?"

He nodded, then shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal.

She looked down at his feet again. "Where are your shoes?"

He spun around, searching the riverbank. "Ah, shit. I don't know. _Shit!"_

She eyed him speculatively. "You swear a lot."

"I just lost my shoes!" he spluttered, indignant. "One of Gerrard's friends probably kicked them into the river when I wasn't looking."

That sounded likely, going by what she'd seen of the boy and his friends. "I'll help you look for them," she offered brightly. She'd planned on exploring her new home today, but something about Auruo had changed her mind. He was funny and a bit sad. Already his ash-blond hair had begun to dry, curling around his ears in a messy mop, and she found it oddly endearing. She thought she'd like to try and make him smile more. "They're probably only a little ways downriver."

He stared at her like he'd never seen anything like her in his life before looking away, another blush coloring his cheeks. "You don't have to do that," he muttered. "It's not a big deal."

"I don't mind," she said. "Come on. The sooner we start looking, the sooner we'll find them."

With that, they set out, walking alongside the river and scouring it for any sign of the Auruo's shoes. She didn't ask questions; going by the state of his clothes – worn and neatly patched in many places– he probably didn't have the money to buy another pair. Which was nothing to be ashamed of, in her opinion; a lot of people didn't have the money to buy lots of shoes, including her.

She snuck a glance at him from the corner of her eye. "Why were your shoes off in the first place?"

He looked at her, and the wind caught a tuft of his hair, making it stick straight up. "You ask a lot of questions."

"I ask questions because I'm interested in the answers," she said in a dignified way.

A shadow of his smile caught at his lips. "If I weren't so nice I'd call you a snoop."

"It's a good thing you're nice, then," she said, hands on hips. "Or I'd have to shove you in the river myself."

"I'd pull you in with me," he said, and now he smiled for real, a grin that had acquired a teasing, predatory edge. "And it's cold."

"That wouldn't be very nice, Auruo," she chastised.

"That's true," he agreed, then he grew quiet. "Maybe I'm not nice at all."

She could already see from the expression on his face that this had less to do with her and more to do with an as of yet unknown worry at the back of his mind. But she could also see that he was, because when he smiled, _really s_miled, it lit his eyes from within. There was kindness there, in the way his first thought had been for ruining her handkerchief and not his own injuries.

"I think you are," she said finally.

"You don't even know me."

"I'd like to, though."

He looked up at her with wide eyes, and his face went red as sunset. She really did want to get to know him, and not just because she found him weirdly endearing and funny. "And besides," she added. "You didn't answer my question."

He sighed, scuffing the ground with his bare feet again. "Tomorrow is my first day of work. At the steel mill. And I just … well, I used to come here and skip stones in the river. I was kind of saying goodbye to it today. And before you ask, you don't have to take off your shoes to skip stones, but it's nice. The water's cool, and it's kind of relaxing." He hunched his shoulders. "It probably sounds stupid to you."

"I think it sounds lovely," she said, and she smiled. "I don't know how to skip stones, but I could probably manage the feet in the river part."

"You'd have to be really dumb to mess that up," he snickered, then froze. "Not that I'm saying you're dumb!"

"You better not have been!" she laughed. "Come on, relax. I knew what you meant."

He was quiet as he watched the river, and she thought that she understood why he was so sad. It was beautiful here, the sound of rushing water almost drowning out the sounds of the city, the sunlight catching in the surface. He mumbled something, and his words were swallowed by the river.

"What?" she asked.

He faced her, blushing furiously. "I said I could show you!"

"To stick my feet in the water?"

"No, you brat. To skip stones." He swallowed, hunching his shoulders again. "I mean, if you want."

"Brat, huh," she said, but her heart wasn't in it; instead, she found his quick jab kind of cute, and she liked that he broke past his shyness long enough to be exasperated or funny. She cut him off before he could get even more worked up. "I'd like that a lot, Auruo."

"I mean, I gotta find my shoes first," he said quickly, ducking his head to try and hide his blushing. "If that's alright."

She nodded, and they resumed their scan of the river. Already Auruo was less hangdog – his shoulders unhunched, back a little straighter – and she almost thought she saw him smile before he pushed a messy tuft of hair out of his eyes. They hadn't gone far when something stuck against an outcropping of shallow grass on the other side of the river caught her attention. "Do those look familiar to you?" she asked.

He brightened. "My shoes!"

She worked off her own shoes, lining them up neatly on the riverbank and bunching her dress to her knees so the ends wouldn't get wet. She saw Auruo falter, and his hazel eyes went wide. "W-what are you doing?"

"I can get across on those rocks, see?" she said, pointing. "Just sit tight. I'll be right back."

"Come on, I can't let you do that. You might slip," he said, holding out his hands to stop her.

"Come on, yourself. You're finally dry," she said, a little irritated. "What if you fell in again?"

"Then I'd dry off again," he said, scowling. "Just hold on."

"No, you hold on!" He'd taken a step on the first stone, but she grabbed him – angry that he wouldn't let her do something for him after all that he'd gone through today, and that he had to be a stubborn jerk about it. "And what's this about 'letting me' do anything?!"

"W-what are you doing?!"

"Just get out of the way!"

"You're going to fall!"

"I won't if you get out of the way!"

She'd grabbed him too hard – she felt his center of balance shift, his arms windmilling as he fell backward, and she made to grab him just as he tried to push her back onto the safety of the bank, but it was no use; the pair of them crashed into the river in a tangle of flailing limbs. And he had been right; the water was as cold and deep as darkness.

* * *

Auruo shot out of the river like a bullet, and it took him a moment to notice that she still hadn't resurfaced. Suddenly he was frantic in a way he had never been before. He saw the yellow of her dress billow beneath the surface of the river, her auburn braid floating next to her face, amber eyes wide as she thrashed, and without thinking he dove back into the freezing water, griping her tightly around the waist and hauling her up. She clutched the front of his vest, her other arm wrapping around him, and for a moment he thought he would never be able to breathe again. The current was stronger here and the water deeper than he was tall, but he was a good swimmer, and with a perfect sidestroke he swam to the riverbank, careful to keep her head above water. He pulled her up first before scrabbling up the riverbank himself, his heart beating so hard against his ribs that he thought he'd find a hole in his chest when he looked down.

"Are you all right?!" he choked, turning her over and pulling her close. "Petra!"

She coughed, one shaking hand at her throat. "Y-yeah," she said, shivering.

"Why didn't you swim for the bank?!" he shouted.

She wouldn't look at him. Her dripping braid curled over her shoulder, darker than it had been before, and she pulled at it nervously, squeezing the water out. "I c-can't swim," she said in a small voice.

He could do nothing but stare, his heart crashing in his chest. It slowly dawned on him how easily she could have drowned, this bright girl who had blundered her way into his life, who was already so vital. "You c-could have died!" he shouted. "Why didn't you just stay back and let me take care of it?!"

"I wouldn't have f-fallen if you'd have just let me g-go!" she shouted back, her face red.

"What if you'd slipped, huh? What about then?"

Her blazing eyes narrowed. "I w-w-wouldn't have."

"You don't know that," he snapped, breathing hard. "You could have _died." _

The temper faded from her expression, and Auruo was horrified to see her eyes fill with tears. It was the most heartbreaking thing he'd ever seen in his short, admittedly sheltered life – this pretty, soaked girl shivering on the riverbank, her skinny arms wrapped around her body, just about to burst into tears. He couldn't believe himself; yelling at a girl, the _nicest g_irl he'd ever met just because she also happened to be stubborn and had been about to do something pretty stupid. Like he'd never done anything stupid in his life. _You idiot, _he cursed himself.

"I'm sorry," she said in a small voice. "I was just trying to make you smile. I wanted to do something nice."

He froze. "W-what?"

"You just seem really sad. I don't know." She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry."

He couldn't stand it anymore. "Ah … come on. Please don't cry. I'm sorry I yelled at you. I was just scared, okay?

"You were?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Yeah!" he nearly shouted. "_You could have died!" _

"All right, all right," she said, smoothing her soaked dress over her knees. "I'm sorry."

"And stop apologizing, you brat," he said, and despite herself she let out a small laugh. "It's just … you have been nice. You're _really_ nice. The nicest person I've ever met. So … you don't have to make any weird gestures on my account." He trailed off, his throat suddenly very tight. "Don't put yourself in danger like that again, okay?"

And finally, she nodded. "Okay," she said, and to his surprise she held out her hand to him. He stared at it for a moment before he realized she meant to shake on it, and as gingerly as one might hold a bird, he took her hand, and made a seal on that promise.

He noticed that she was shivering even worse now, her small hand shuddering inside his. The sun had disappeared behind the tops of the houses, so that the riverbank was now covered by shadow. But on the opposite bank, it was still sunny and open, the fields of grass undulating gently in a soft wind, as if to beckon them over.

He turned to her. "So if you promise not to throw us into the river again, I know how we can get dry without freezing to death," he said, shivering a little himself.

"You know it was half your fault," she said, scowling.

"Bullshit, it was half my fault!"

She rolled her eyes. "You said you had an idea?"

"Yeah, just … hang on to my hand, okay? We're going to step over to the other side, and you're _not _going to fall in this time."

She made a worried face. "I can get over on my own. I don't want to pull you in."

He sighed. "If you fall in, I'll be right behind you, and I'll be able to pull you out again. On the right bank this time. Don't be a stubborn brat for two seconds and follow me."

"Stubborn!" she said, raising an eyebrow. "Like you aren't either!"

"Shush," he said, firmly taking her hand and helping her to her feet.

They crossed the river very carefully. The stones were slick with moss and rushing water, and as soon as they'd taken their first step Petra gripped his hand so tightly he thought for a brief second it would break. But with his heart in his throat, he led them across. He chose each step carefully, his nerves jangling, utterly prepared to dive in again should she slip and fall. And he thought it was so odd then, so odd yet thrilling, that even though they'd only known one another for the span of an afternoon, she trusted him. He could feel it in the way she held his hand.

On the opposite bank, he was the one to let go first. He was supposed to be annoyed with girls, because they were furtive yet bland, shrill and irritating, but Petra was different, Petra was an entirely different species, and all he knew was the he did not want to let go, not yet.

He knew he was probably blushing again, because that's all his face seemed to know how to do, so he busied himself by disentangling his shoes from the patch of river grass at his feet. "Victory," he grinned, holding up his shoes like a trophy.

Petra grinned too, which was another kind of victory.

They walked east of the river a short ways until they reached a place where the grass was warm and dry. Before Petra could lie back, he peeled off of his vest and handed it to her. When she looked at him questioningly, he shrugged. "So your dress doesn't get dirty," he said, embarrassed. "I mean, it's not dry, but –"

"Thank you," she said, smiling up at him.

He smiled too, because he was awkward and couldn't think of anything else to say, but also because already she seemed to understand him, and for someone as lousy with words as he was, that was a gift that didn't come around every day.

"Thanks for saving me," she said after a long time – his clothes were already half dry by then.

He shifted uncomfortably. "What was I going to do, let you drown?"

For some reason this annoyed her. "I'm trying to say thank you and sorry, you jerk," she said, irritated.

"I thought I said to stop apologizing."

She huffed out an exasperated breath. "I get the feeling you're a very infuriating person."

"Well, you know what they say," he said with a cheeky, punch-drunk grin. "Takes one to know one."

She rolled her eyes, but he could tell she wasn't really that irritated. And for a person who had been more comfortable just keeping to himself, he found himself sharing his thoughts with Petra almost as they came to him. "Um … thanks, too. You know."

"What?"

He looked back at the sky, furiously aware that he was blushing again. "For saving me."

Now her grin became smug. "What was I going to do, let them beat you to death?"

But he suddenly felt very serious. "You could have. Anyone else would have."

And almost as suddenly, she was serious too. "But I won't. Ever."

He looked at her – amber eyes bright, burning like they had the first moment he'd seen her, that sunlight girl in the yellow dress, already so important, now that they had saved each other. He couldn't speak, but she seemed to understand him regardless.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thanks to ReniJo, hangefan, Anon1, SugarKane, KimchixBurger, and Anon2 for your reviews, and to everyone else who read, faved and followed! your support is inspirational to me! **

**So essentially this is part 2 of the first chapter - just their first day together got way too long for one chapter. Feel free to drop me a line and let me know how I am doing! **

Auruo and Petra lay on their backs and watched the clouds. His clothes had long since dried from their unfortunate detour into the river, but the longer the silence grew the more difficult it became for him to fill it, even to suggest that they should get back home. He was incredibly aware of the girl next to him; the even pace of her breathing, the sound of the grass rustling beneath her as she shifted. Every few moments she would hum thoughtfully to herself, and after a while her presence lulled him.

He closed his eyes. The afternoon sun warmed his face, and a light breeze rustled the trees in the near distance. He could hear voices from town, but not words; each sound grew indistinct, a gentle hum just at the edge of hearing, and he found himself drifting in and out of consciousness, hovering in that halfway state between waking and sleep.

He dreamed. He saw himself soaring through the air, high above the world, with twin slivers of steel in his hands, extensions of his arms that cut through Titan flesh as if by thought alone. He was older, taller and lean. His scowl was permanently written on his face, even when he relaxed. But he was good – he was skilled! He had a purpose. He knew that with every Titan he killed he made the world better.

He dreamed of an open land, and there were no walls in that place. People travelled. They flew the skies and sailed great open stretches of water, filled with more strange and fascinating things that Auruo could ever imagine in his lifetime. There was more than enough food to go around for everyone, and the open world was no more dangerous than the places within the Walls. People wrote and sang and told stories, and they looked to the starlit sky with hope. They did not know fear.

"Auruo!"

He opened his eyes to see Petra hovering directly above him, her lips curled in an eager smile. His heart gave a strange lurch, as if it suddenly found his chest too small. "W-what?" he gasped.

"You fell asleep," she accused.

He rubbed his eyes and propped himself up on one elbow. "Sorry," he said, yawning. "Guess I was tired."

"Or you're lazy."

He wasn't really, but it amused him to see her so amused. "Whatever you say," he said, rolling his eyes.

But she wouldn't look away; her head tilted as she considered him, pursing her lips. She looked as if she struggled to reconcile a part of him that she hadn't yet seen, and he felt his face grow warm; no one had ever looked at him so searchingly before. He wasn't sure that he liked it. "What?"

"You smile when you sleep," she said, tapping her chin. "Or you were just now. It's kind of sweet."

"What?!"

"It is! I didn't know anyone actually did that. But you were."

He rolled onto his back and threw his arm over his eyes, utterly humiliated; he'd rather she think him tough or strong than sweet. "Ugh."

"What's 'ugh' about being sweet?" she wanted to know, leaning back over him again. "Why are you so embarrassed?"

"Because you're embarrassing," he muttered, wishing desperately that the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

"You mean I'm embarrassing you."

"No, I mean _you're _embarrassing_." _

She wouldn't stop looking at him, and her grin had become somewhat self-satisfied. "I just think you're easily embarrassed."

This was true; therefore, Auruo would be damned if he let her think she was right about it. "You're crazy."

"Why else would you blush all the time?"

"I have a skin condition. Thanks for bringing it up." He scowled. "And I don't blush all the time."

"We've only just met and already you've blushed like twenty times."

"_Because you're embarrassing. _It's second-hand embarrassment," he said, pushing himself upright and crossing his legs.

She giggled, and he hated that he found it charming. "Yeah, okay," she said, like she knew he was full of shit. He knew that he was, about most things; it was easier to pretend he was coarse and uncaring rather than admit what he thought, how he felt. And he didn't know anything about this girl or the future, but he had an odd feeling about her. He suspected she wouldn't vanish after today, that she'd stick with him, and that she'd do so reminding him as often as possible that he wouldn't be able to lie to her.

* * *

Petra tucked her skirt over her knees and peered over at Auruo, who was currently still pretending not to be flustered. She had only thought it was sweet that someone could be so at peace while they slept; for her, it was largely foreign – she could hardly stay still long enough to allow it. His left eye was a little swollen, and the corner of his mouth had scabbed over, yet despite it he had seemed so serene, especially considering since she met him, his expression was more given to self-conscious frowning and scowls. She had to admit to being slightly fascinated by the extremes.

He fidgeted, and she realized he was uncomfortable with her staring again, so she asked the first thing that popped into her head. "You said you have to start working tomorrow?"

She regretted the question almost as soon as the words left her mouth, for he visibly deflated. "Yeah," he said, clearly trying not to sound as gutted as he felt.

"So that means it's your birthday today!" she said brightly. "Why didn't you say anything? And don't tell me you don't know."

He'd obviously been about to. But he looked at her searchingly, his brows low over troubled eyes, and she realized this was probably what had been upsetting him – the bullies and his soggy shoes had just been additional worries. After a long moment, he sighed. "I want to join the Survey Corps," he said, pulling at a fraying shoelace. "I'm twelve, so I could. Join the Cadets first, I mean, and then the Survey Corps. But my mom doesn't want me to, and my dad doesn't want to do anything that would upset my mom." He fell silent for a moment. "We had a big fight about it."

Her smile faded. "You … want to join the Survey Corps?"

"Yeah." He bit his lip so fiercely it started to bleed again. "Mom thinks I'd just be killed. Because, you know, new recruits have about a half in half chance of dying on their first expedition. And I mean, obviously right now I wouldn't be able to do much. But you're in training for three years, and by the time you're out you have the tools to stay alive." He made an uneasy face. "Theoretically, anyway."

She realized she was staring again, and forced herself to blink. "I'm sorry, I just … I didn't know anyone else who actually wanted to join the Survey Corps."

He looked up at her. "'Else'? Does that mean you want to join too?"

"_Yes_!" she said, her voice dropping to a fervent hush. Her first day exploring her new home, and the first person she met was not only around her age, funny, and nice, but also shared her dearest ambition. She couldn't stop herself from taking his hand and squeezing it. "I can't believe it. I was – oh, I don't know. I thought I'd have to go off to training myself next year and watch most of my classmates shuffle off to Garrison, but _here you are!"_

He didn't pull his hand away, but she felt him tense. "You missed the part where I can't go because my parents think I'll die as soon as I take a step outside the Walls." He shrugged, his uneasy expression deepening. "I mean, I guess I can't totally blame them. And we do need the money from a steady job now. I know I get a stipend when I'm an actual soldier, but not while you're in training. And I don't mind helping out, but …" He sighed, the hangdog boy again.

"But you have a few years to convince them," she said, trying to get him to smile. "Maybe they'll change their minds. I mean, right now you're …"

"Weak," he said, scowling at her.

"_Young," _she corrected gently. "Maybe it'll be easier for them to believe you'll be okay when you're a little older. You know, taller."

"Assuming that ever happens."

"Auruo," she said. "Just be patient. You don't know how things will work out."

"Or even _if _they will."

She glared at him. "Are you determined to be upset about this or something?"

"Maybe," he muttered, but his lips twitched against a smile, and she knew she'd won him over. "Maybe you'll be a big shot in the Survey Corps by the time I'm done with my training."

"Ha! That's likely," she said, rolling her eyes, but the longer she thought about it the more bereft she felt. She barely knew this boy, but already she did not want to leave him alone. Who could say why? If she had to put a name on it, she just had a feeling about him, and it was the kind that are foolish to ignore. "Or, you know, I could just enroll when you do."

He stared at her with wide eyes, and the shock in his expression was equal parts dear and sad. "You'd do that?"

"Sure, why not?" she said, beaming. "We could look out for each other."

Slowly, the preoccupied sadness in his expression faded, replaced by a warmth she could not exactly put her finger on. "It's a deal, then," he said. He made to extend his hand for her to shake when he realized that it was still caught between hers. She'd been so caught up in the idea that she'd nearly forgotten herself; his hand was very warm, and the weight of it solid and comforting. He looked down, blushing furiously. She bit her tongue to keep from laughing, because she didn't want him to think she was laughing at him (though she was), and his preoccupied nervousness was inexplicably endearing. She squeezed his hand one more time for good measure before sparing him.

He cleared his throat. "Probably going to be me looking out for you more than you looking out for me," he said, shooting her a smug grin.

"Ha! Says the boy who can't even take a compliment without blushing his head off!"

"That wouldn't have anything to do with anything, even if it were true!" he retorted. "I bet I'm faster than you, and you know how important that is in the Survey Corps."

"Prove it," she challenged. "I'll race you to that tree over there."

"Prepare to lose, then!" he said, smirking. "I'm pretty fast."

"We'll see."

They made an official outing of it. He drew a solid line through the grass with his foot, and they took their places behind it. She shot him her most intense glare, and he matched it perfectly. He drew his thumb across his throat in a threatening gesture. She bared her teeth. "Ready … set … go!" they cried together, and she was off like a shot.

She pulled ahead almost instantly, shouting in triumph as he slowly fell behind, sputtering in disbelief. He could have had no way of knowing, but when she wanted to be, she was _fast_. She ran full tilt, the warm spring air whipping her braid behind her, her cardigan catching in the wind, and still she was faster than him, much faster. And for a moment she thought that she no longer touched the ground, but had instead sprouted wings and flew to the tree. She believed that she could keep going, pick up and soar over the Walls, over the whole world.

* * *

Auruo watched her sprint ahead, and a fire lit in him. He pushed his scrawny legs faster than they'd ever gone before, forced his body forward until he'd nearly caught her, until he could almost reach out and brush his fingers against the end of her braid. But suddenly she was off again, sprinting the last leg of the race in the blink of an eye, and he realized that she'd only been toying with him. She was faster than anything he'd ever seen in his life.

When he finally caught up to her, he was so winded he couldn't speak, which seemed to amuse her even more. "Guess you're not as fast as you thought," she said airily. He could only stare. _She_ wasn't winded at all!

"How … how are you so _fast?" _he gasped.

"I've always been." She said this with neither pride nor humility but instead with an unassuming shrug, as if it were nothing more than simple truth. "You know, you put up a fair effort, Auruo. Maybe next time you'll catch me."

"Don't … patronize me," he spluttered, and he keeled right over, collapsing spread eagle onto his back under the wide branches of the tree. She knelt at his side, peering down at him with that implacable smile, like even though he was slow and ridiculous she still found him worthwhile. So _maybe _it had been worth it.

"That was a good race," she said, satisfied. "I didn't have anyone to race with back home."

"Probably because they all figured out it wasn't a fair fight," he muttered, shaking his head.

"Probably," she agreed.

He looked up at her; the shade of the tree muted the light in her eyes, yet still she shone. "I will catch you one day," he promised her. "Just watch."

She nodded indulgently, biting her lip against another smile. "Sure you will."

She gave him a moment to catch his breath, and then held out her hand to help him to his feet. He thought she might want to challenge him to a race back, but instead she folded her hands behind her and began the walk at an easy pace. Maybe she was being thoughtful to him, or maybe she didn't want to go home yet. He was fine with either one.

"Why do you want to join the Survey Corps?" she asked, looking up at him.

He thought about how to put the feeling into words. "You know how the Walls make everyone feel safe, right?" he said, unconsciously gesturing as he spoke. "But I get so frustrated look at them. Seeing them there and knowing the Titans are on the other side. I don't really know how to explain it."

"I know what you mean, though," she said quietly. "I've always felt the same."

He nodded, encouraged. "I heard that before the Titans, there used to be these places where people could go to learn whatever they wanted. They didn't have to choose between work and the army; they just … read books and wrote about them! For years!"

"Like religious books?"

"If they wanted. Or any kind of book, about anything!"

Her eyes were wide. "My dad said that before the Titans came, people were never hungry. There was enough for everyone."

"It's so hard to imagine," he said, looking into the distance, where he saw a shadow of the Wall Rose, fifty meters tall and supposedly impenetrable. "But that's why I want to join the Survey Corps. Because they're the only ones actually trying to do something about the Titans."

"Right," she said fervently. "Exactly,"

He studied her, watching as she pulled absently at the end of her braid, her gaze far away. Perhaps she imagined herself as he had earlier that day – soaring through the air, two blades in her hands, quick as a streak of lightning. He thought of how she'd stood up to Gerrard and his dumb friends, a wild fire in her eyes, her fists clenched, and he knew; she was a warrior already.

"Your parents are okay with you joining the Survey Corps?" he asked after a moment.

"My dad," she corrected, and the corners of her mouth turned down into a heartbreaking frown. "He's not exactly fond of the idea."

He waited for her to elaborate but she did not. He found it strange, considering up to this moment she'd been effusive and eager. But if anyone understood the need to keep things unsaid, it was Auruo. So he blurted the first thing he could think of that might make her smile.

"Hey, look," he said, stooping to pick up his vest and shoes before facing her. "It's my birthday, and my mom made some cake. Had to scrounge for a few months for the ingredients, but it's worth it, trust me. You could have some of my piece." He cleared his throat. "I mean, if you want."

"You wouldn't mind?" she asked him. "It _is_ your birthday. You only get cake once a year."

"Nah, I don't mind," he said easily. Truthfully, this morning he'd been looking forward to savoring every bite of that cake – his mother was a famously good cook, and when given proper ingredients she could whip up food that was more like magic than sustenance. But at that moment he knew it would feel better to share that cake with Petra than it would to eat a hundred cakes. "Seriously, the cake she made last year was so good; it had chopped up pieces of walnuts inside, and she made this frosting from scratch, and—" He trailed off, gesturing uselessly. "Just trust me, it's great."

And finally she did smile. "You convinced me."

They were even more careful crossing the river this time. Petra gripped his hand tightly as they stepped from stone to stone. At the middle of the river he felt her stumble, and before she could tip over, he'd pulled her quickly to him, bracing himself as best as he could with freezing water rushing around his ankles. She squeaked, clutching him as she regained her balance. "It's even colder now," she said, shivering.

He didn't speak until they'd stepped onto the opposite bank, and only then did he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "This would be a lot less stressful if you knew how to swim," he said, slipping back into his shoes. "I could teach you, when it gets a little warmer."

"Ah … yeah! Sometime later," she said, looking away nervously. "I thought you were going to teach me to skip rocks first."

"I can do both, believe it or not," he said with a grin. "Seems to me like your education so far has been pretty lame. You don't know how to do anything interesting."

"Ha ha," she said, rolling her eyes. "I know how to run faster than you. Seems to me like that's plenty interesting."

He tried to scowl, but it came out a grudging laugh instead. He wouldn't argue that one.

It wasn't a long trek to his home. He lived in one of the more cramped neighborhoods, where it was common to find four or more families to each house, the rooms partitioned off as equally as possible. His family lived on the ground floor and shared two rooms. For now it was all right; just him, his parents, and his thirteen month old brother. In a few months, though, it would become even more cramped.

Suddenly, the prospect of introducing Petra to his family filled him with mild horror. His father would be more or less agreeable – his worst crime was laughing at the inappropriate things his wife said - but his mother never met a silence she didn't like to fill with embarrassing detail. To say nothing of Benoit, who seemed keen to break the record for possible days spent wailing at the top of his lungs.

"Look, I should probably warn you," he said, slowing as they entered his neighborhood and the sounds of his brother's crying filled the air. "My brother hasn't stopped crying for like three days. My mom is probably going to be really nosy. I'm not really sure what my dad will do, but it'll probably be something." He pinched his brow and groaned. "This was a bad idea."

She elbowed him. "You got me all sold on the idea of cake and now you're going to take it away. What kind of friend are you?"

"One you'll probably regret making in a minute," he muttered.

"Oh hush. I want to meet your family. I bet they're not all that bad," she said, and he hated how charmed he was by her sweet smile. He prayed she'd never learn how susceptible he was to it.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," he said with a shrug, trying to pass it off as nonchalantly as possible, but beneath that he was starting to panic. He should have just kept his mouth shut, then brought her a piece of cake tomorrow. Same gesture, only without the humiliation.

His mother was sweeping a pile of dust off the stoop when she caught sight of him. "Auruo!" she exclaimed, rushing forward. "Where have you been all day? We were worried!" He had prayed she wouldn't notice his puffy eye and busted lip, but clearly that prayer had fallen on deaf ears; as soon as he was close enough, she caught his face between her warm hands, turning it back and forth to get a better look at his injuries. "What happened to your face?"

"Mom …" he muttered, struggling to break out of her grasp. "It's nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing to me. Did you get into another fight?"

"_No," _he said, wriggling free. "Just drop it."

She tutted, clearly not convinced. "So where have you been?"

He scuffed the ground, ready to admit that he'd spent the day doing absolutely nothing she would find important when Petra stepped forward. "I'm sorry, Mrs. …"

"Bossard," he whispered.

"Mrs. Bossard. I'm Petra Ral, and it's my fault. I've just moved here and Auruo was kind enough to show me around," she said, with a charmingly self-effacing smile.

His mother gaped. "Auruo did this? _My _son?" She felt his forehead with the back of her hand. "Are you sick?"

He stared at her disbelievingly. "_Mom." _

Well, this was an auspicious start. Less than a minute into introductions and already his mother had commenced with the ritual humiliations. For her part, his mother smiled and held out her hand for Petra to shake. "It's nice to meet you, sweetheart. And even nicer to hear that my son is capable of being pleasant to strangers."

"_Mom!"_

His mother ignored him. "We were just about to have some of Auruo's birthday cake."

"That's what he said. He was nice enough to offer to split his piece with me."

He could see the wheels turning in his mother's head, and knew what she'd say even before she opened her mouth. "_Auruo? _Offer to share? Now I know he must be sick."

"_MOM!"_

Petra looked like her own birthday had come early; he'd never seen a person be so thrilled with their circumstances. He wasn't sure if he liked that those circumstances were his utter disgrace. His mother smiled too, probably because her favorite pastime was embarrassing him. "Come on in, sweetheart. Forgive the mess."

Before Petra followed his mother inside, she looked over her shoulder at him, and he knew that he would always remember this exact moment – her braid spilling over her shoulder, her eyes so full of light that he could hardly bear it. And something gave him pause; that it wasn't the teasing that had made her so happy, but that she'd been welcomed so wholly, that his mother had already taken to calling her 'sweetheart', and for a girl who avoided mention of her own mother, this probably meant more to her than he'd ever understand.

Everything inside was situated for his birthday; the cake sat on the threadbare table, covered with dark frosting and an actual strawberry (who knew where or how his mother had come by it). His father sat at the table with Benoit in his lap, whose wails had thankfully given way to pitiful whimpering and sniffling. He looked up at Auruo with a trembling chin, and Auruo felt a wave of guilt curl in his gut.

Petra stepped forward. "Mr. Bossard, I'm –"

"Petra, I heard," said his father with a smile. "It's nice to meet you."

Auruo braced himself for the inevitable crack at his expense, but his father only continued to smile, standing and depositing Benoit in Auruo's arms so that he could shake her hand.

He watched his parents confer in the corner, feeling unbearably awkward. Already, Benoit was winding up again – his big, brown eyes filling with tears, whimpers slowly increasing in volume. Panicked, Auruo tried bouncing the baby on his knee a little. "Come on, Benoit," he said desperately. "It's okay."

But it was no use; either he was terrible with babies, or Benoit was a particularly disagreeable one. Probably both. Before Benoit could let loose one of his patented ear-shattering howls, Petra smiled and held out her hands. "Can I try?"

He stared at her. "W-what?"

"I used to look after some of the younger kids in my old village. I know what I'm doing."

"He's not exactly your average problem child," Auruo said, then felt guilty again for saying it about his own brother.

"Just trust me for a minute," she said, shooting him an irritated look. "It can't hurt to try."

Auruo didn't know about that. Petra probably thought she was pretty good with kids, but after pitting her skills against the tantruming will of his brother and failing, she'd probably never want anything to do with him and his family again. And selfishly, this was the last thing he wanted. But unable to think of any believable protest, he grudgingly passed his brother into Petra's hands.

She sat Benoit on her lap facing her, and took one of his little hands in hers. Almost instantly Benoit fell silent, his eyes going wide as he took in this stranger, deciding what to make of her. "Hi there," she cooed. "Oh, you are sweet."

Auruo started, completely agog. He didn't think he'd ever heard anyone call Benoit sweet, except for his mother, probably, and being that it was the province of mothers to be blind on the subject of their children, her opinion did not count.

Benoit reached out with one chubby fist, making a little sound. And somehow, she seemed to know what he wanted. "You like my hair, huh?" she asked him, before flipping her braid over her shoulder so he could grab it. And grab he did, twisting the beautiful strands up in his sticky fingers. Auruo waited for the inevitable yank, but it seemed as if his brother was merely content to touch what he found so interesting.

Then, a miracle: Benoit giggled.

Auruo stared. His mother stared. His father stared. No one said anything, the three of them convinced that they'd only imagined the sound. But Benoit giggled again, and Petra shot Auruo a look as if to say _'And you doubted me.'_

"It's a miracle," his father said in a hush.

"He's been crying for three days straight," his mother added, and she was the first to break out into a smile. "You must have a way with children."

Petra shrugged modestly. "He's very cute. Not so hard to have a way with a cute baby, is it?" she cooed, and Benoit shrieked with delight, yanking on her braid.

"Don't let this one out of your sight, Auruo," his father said with a wink. "She's magic."

And there it was; his father, the wildcard. He let his head thunk on the table in humiliated despair. _I'm going to marry her, _he thought. _And they're not invited._

* * *

Later, he and Petra sat on the stoop with their cake. Outside the sky was a vivid red orange, and the clouds above their heads were streaked with purple. He couldn't see the horizon from this far in the city, but he imagined it was spectacular. On a day with good weather and clear skies, he decided he'd take her to their spot by the racing tree, and stay until it was dark, until the sunset gave way to stars.

"So you've spent all day talking up this cake," Petra said, her fork poised for a bite. "Let's see if it lives up to the hype."

"It was hardly all day," he retorted. "And you be careful. There is no slandering birthday cake in this house."

Petra smirked and shook her head. He watched as she took a bite, and he was not disappointed; her eyes widened, and she lifted her fingers to her mouth. "It's amazing," she whispered. "What's _in this?"_

"Magic!" his father called from the open window.

His mother laughed. "Not telling."

"I warned you," Auruo said, grinning.

She did not reply, instead taking another huge bite of the cake, and Auruo quickly followed suit. In almost no time at all their plates were empty, picked clean of even the smallest crumbs. And she was right; it was amazing.

"I always try to eat it slow," he said wistfully. "Ah, well. There's always next year."

They were quiet a long time, watching as people walked home from work, merchants packing up their stalls, young children playing in the alleys and square. He looked at Petra from the corner of his eye, studying the way the sunset caught in her hair and made it look like fire, the small, content smile that curled her lips. He didn't want to ask when he could see her again_, _though it seemed as if his entire body had become a conduit for that question, positively straining with the need to ask it and learn the answer. But fear stopped him – fear that she would say no, or perhaps that everything that had happened today had been a dream.

"I probably should get back home," she said as she got to her feet. He clambered after her, stumbling on the stoop in his haste. "I told my father I'd be home by sundown."

"Do you know how to get home from here?" he asked.

"Sure. It's not too far from your house, actually," she said, brightening.

_Can I see you again? _"All right," he mumbled.

"Thanks again for the cake," she said as she handed him her empty plate.

"Ah … it's not a big deal," he said, reddening. "Don't mention it." _Can I see you again?!_

"And for everything else."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Okay." _CAN I SEE YOU AGAIN?!_

She looked equal parts frustrated and soft in that moment, and he had a wild, dizzying thought; that perhaps she could read his mind, that she could hear him screaming this half-insane mantra over and over again in his thoughts, and that she now found him as ridiculous as he'd always found himself. But instead of leaving without another word, she smiled. "Can I see you again?"

He swallowed. "Uh … yeah. Sure! I mean, yes."

"You don't work on the last day of the week, do you?"

He shook his head.

"Then I'll wait by the river for you."

He nodded dumbly. "Okay."

He watched her leave, her fire-caught braid bouncing between her shoulders with each light step, her arms swaying at her sides. He committed this to his memory, too; how she looked exactly in this moment. Maybe a little flustered, but mostly happy – just as happy as he was that she had found him, that they had found one another. Before she rounded the corner she turned and waved to him, and gave him a smile that managed to be open and a little shy at once, a smile that was as bright as sunlight.

"What a nice girl," his mother said behind him. Auruo hadn't even noticed she was there.

"I'm going to marry her," he said aloud.

His mother had heard only one similar proclamation from him – when he'd informed the room at large that he intended to join the Survey Corps. "Oh, Auruo," she sighed, ruffling his hair. "You can't know that about someone you just met."

_But I can, _he thought, watching the place where Petra had disappeared. _I do know. _


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thanks to Anon1, Anon2, and ReniJo for your reviews, and to everyone else who read, faved and followed! **

**This is the last chapter of them as kids - next time, they are teenagers ... and we all know what that means. ;)**

**Drop me a line and let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!**

It was the longest week of Auruo's life.

He woke before sunrise every morning and trudged up the streets to the factory, where he worked alongside his father from dawn until dusk. He shoveled coal until he felt as if his arms would rip from their sockets, until his back ached and his feet ached, and every breath was like pushing a boulder up a hill. He would return home almost too tired to eat, and fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

The foreman hadn't been impressed with him. He scowled at Auruo's skinny arms and tutted once before assigning him to forge six. "Do your work and don't screw around," he had said, pushing a shovel and belt into Auruo's chest. "These blades are the only things that keep our soldiers alive against the Titans. Anyone fucks up around here, they're going to get someone killed."

Auruo didn't need to be told twice. He hated the work because it was monotonous and exhausting, and the mill itself was blisteringly hot, but he did his best from the moment he arrived to the moment he left. He thought about the soldiers who would use these blades as he worked. How many would languish in their cases, snug on the hip of a Garrison soldier, who were prone to spending their time on duty drinking and messing around? How many would go to the Scouting Legion, who went through blades like meals, where the only things standing between them and an inglorious end in the gut of a Titan were two quick, deep cuts?

He often thought of Petra. The shimmering of the forge would remind him of her hair, and the way it had looked when touched by sunlight. He remembered the river, skipping over stones and the trust in the way she'd held his hand. He saw her streaking through a green field, laughing from the sheer delight that speed and freedom afforded her. He thought of her smile, her stubbornness, her bravery, her temper. How easy it had been to love her, even from that first moment, when she'd chased off three kids nearly twice her size and dabbed as his bloody lip, biting her own in sympathy.

And there wasn't a doubt in his mind that he loved her.

According to his mother, his 'infatuation' was natural for someone who had been largely isolated from his peers his whole life. He didn't have friends, and most people annoyed him. So it stood to reason that he would fixate on the first person who didn't fail him in some way. Auruo decided to stop talking to her about everything altogether – even mentioning it in the first place had been a mistake.

He knew the truth. He didn't need anyone else's approval for it to be valid.

At night, in those last moments before sleep pulled him under, he lay on his back with one arm cradling his head and looked out the window, up at the sky resplendent with stars. He counted down the hours to Sunday. While his limbs thrummed with ache and exhaustion, he thought of a sunlit day that he didn't have to spend inside a sweltering forge, one he could instead enjoy outside with the most incredible person he'd ever met.

* * *

It was the longest week of Petra's life.

She was not a passive person – she often zipped from one thing to another especially when she felt melancholy or sad– so while her father worked she took care of their new home. She swept and cleaned and scrubbed, and then did so again for good measure. Only when her chores were finished did she sneak out to explore the district. She studied every inch of the neighborhood, spoke with merchants and befriended the mousers, including a gorgeous calico female that she decided to call Calliope.

She patrolled nervous circles around Auruo's house. Not that she was afraid of him – the complete opposite was true, in fact – but she _was_ afraid of wearing out her welcome. She knew that he and his father worked at the steel mill and that it wouldn't really be possible for them to see each other during the work week, but she couldn't stop herself - she was so excited to see him again that she half-skipped through the streets to meet him on the way home.

She waited, half-hidden in an alley, watching as Auruo and his father walked down the street. She'd been about to reveal herself when she stopped, the excited greeting halfway out of her mouth. Auruo looked dead on his feet. Each step he took seemed to tax him beyond his ability to bear. His shoulders slumped – not from shame but exhaustion. His eyes were heavy, lids fluttering down. She watched as his father rested one gentle hand on his back, and instead of shaking it away, Auruo leaned into his side.

"Well done today," his father said.

Auruo's reply was unintelligible. But he leaned closer, and just as his lunch pail was about to slip from his negligent fingers his father gently pried it loose, holding their front door open.

She drew back into the shadow of the alley. They hadn't seen her, which was probably for the best. She was torn by warring impulses – the uncomfortably visceral need to fold Auruo in her arms, and the more self-conscious fear of imposing on them or scaring them off with her intensity. For the first time, she did not hurry off to the next task or try to fill her time with distraction; instead, she stood in the alley, feeling lost and alone.

She didn't actively decide to snoop - because it was wrong and weird and _creepy, _and she was better than that_ – _but in her inaction she found herself peering through their window, from the safe distance of her spot in the alley. Auruo sat at their table, seemingly contemplating a plate of hot food. His parents spoke in voices too low to be heard from so far away. Auruo wobbled. His fork slipped from his fingers. He pitched forward and slumped onto the table, only narrowly missing his plate of dinner.

"Auruo!" his mother cried.

"It's all right," said his father. "He's just tired. They started him stoking forges."

She was aghast. "He's just a boy!"

His father shrugged. "I was twelve when I started."

Carefully, they saw to their son. His mother cleared away the untouched food and his father swept Auruo into his arms, bearing him further into the house and presumably to bed. She thought of Auruo curled on his side with blankets strewn about, sleeping the heavy sleep of laborers, his thin chest rising and falling at a slow, peaceful pace, and an odd feeling curled in her stomach. _Go home, _she thought sharply. _Stop being so weird, weirdo._

She did not return for the rest of the week. She tried to content herself with seeking out other children her age and while they did initially welcome her, they quickly grew tired of her probing questions and teasing, and the intense way she regarded things that interested her. She wouldn't lie and say that her feelings weren't hurt, but pragmatist in her was not surprised that she wore out her welcome so quickly. She was odd. Of course she'd gotten along with Auruo immediately; he was odd too.

"Made any friends yet?" her father asked over dinner Saturday night.

"Just one," she said, and despite herself she smiled. _And I'm seeing him tomorrow._

* * *

Auruo barely slept. He spent the night tossing and turning, until he was so twisted up in his blankets that he couldn't move. He thought of Petra, wondering if she'd be waiting at the river or if it was all some kind of joke. It probably was, he counseled himself. _Don't get your hopes up. _But every time he attempted to lay out the situation in cold, logical lines, he would remember her smile and hope would fill him again.

Finally, a few minutes before daybreak he could not keep himself in bed a minute longer. He dressed so quickly that tripped over his pants and stumbled, catching himself against the wall only at the last minute. He yanked his shirt over his head too quickly and got stuck, cursing blue murder as he tried to disentangle himself. _Better I get all this clumsy crap out of the way now, _he thought, scowling.

Suitably dressed, he plucked a breakfast roll off the table and shoved it into his mouth. His mother didn't even bat an eye, waving a spoonful of mush in front of Benoit's face. "Where are you off to so early?"

"The river," he said without bothering to swallow.

"Going to see Petra?" she asked, arching a brow.

He shrugged. "Dunno." _It's not a lie! _

"Maybe at least come back for lunch?!" she called to his retreating back.

But he was already gone, running as fast as he could down the street, through the empty market, so fast that a flock of birds perched on the center square fountain scattered around him in a flurry of wings. He knew he was being foolish, that likely she'd show up sometime in the afternoon (if she did at all), and he'd spend the whole morning being simultaneously stressed, exhausted, and too wired to sleep. But he couldn't go back home now.

His panic had nothing to do with her personally. It wasn't that he didn't trust her to keep her word. It was more that he couldn't imagine being as important to her as she was to him.

He saw the river first, the surface catching fractals of the sunrise. And he hated that even though he'd spent the whole week coaching himself not to get his hopes up, he'd gone and done exactly that, so when he saw nothing by that river he felt like he'd been kicked in the ribs by a thousand Gerrards, each wearing boots made of steel.

"Auruo!"

He turned just as a bright auburn blur crashed into his chest and threw its arms around him. A stunned heartbeat passed before he realized that the blur was Petra, hugging him so tightly that he couldn't breathe. _Petra. Hugging him. _He flushed, awkwardly holding his arms out so that they wouldn't accidentally touch her. "P-Petra?"

She looked up at him, and her amber eyes were almost as bright as her smile. "I missed you!"

* * *

It was only after she'd thrown herself at Auruo that she remembered he was easily embarrassed and awkward, and so _endearing _it made her chest hurt, and that springing a hug on him without giving him a second to breathe or prepare was asking for one passed out twelve-year old boy at her feet. But she said "I missed you!" and that seemed to be the right thing, because she felt him slowly relax, one arm folding into the shape of a mutual embrace, his left hand lightly resting on her back.

Of course, when she pulled away she saw that his face was a vibrant red. He cleared his throat. "Okay," he said to his shoes.

_You're freaking him out, _she scolded herself. _Calm down. _

"I've wanted to talk to you all week!" she blurted.

His blush deepened, and she bit the inside of her cheek in dismay. _Total, utter failure. _She just didn't know how to _not _be intense about the things and people she cared about. She couldn't keep that intensity at the back of her throat, burgeoning endlessly; its only place was outward, in truth and daylight.

"Y-yeah," he said. She was considering throwing herself into the river out of shame when he spared her, and said the best thing he could have possibly said in that moment: "Me too. I mean, I've wanted to talk to you all week. Not talk to myself." He trailed off, now so red that she worried he really might faint.

"Come on," she said, tugging at his sleeve. "Let's go to our tree."

They walked alongside the river until they reached the makeshift stone path across. She began to remove her shoes, but he stopped her. "Probably easier if you just get on my back," he said to his feet. "You can hold my shoes."

"Doesn't sound easier to me," she said, arching a brow.

He shifted uncomfortably. "Less stressful."

And she understood; her inability to swim was stressful to him. He _worried _about her. An odd warmth filled her chest, and she couldn't bite back the smile. "You _are _sweet," she accused delightedly. "I knew it."

"_Ugh."_ He scowled at her. "I just don't want you to die horribly. Don't get excited."

"Too late."

He bit his lip, but she could see that he wasn't nearly as annoyed as he pretended to be. He slipped out of his shoes and passed them to her, and with a little excited hop she clambered onto his back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, laughing a little as he hiked her up. He stumbled once but quickly caught his balance.

"Am I too much?" she asked.

She couldn't see his face, but she imagined that he was probably scowling again. Maybe even scowling and blushing. "_No," _he said. "You barely weigh anything."

She didn't argue, though at that moment she felt inexplicably self-conscious. But without another word, he hitched her up and carefully stepped into the river. She thought that he might wobble and tip over, but he was surprisingly steady for someone so skinny bearing almost twice his weight– she felt that even with the water rushing around his feet, he was firmly rooted to the ground, and she trusted him.

She noticed a few things she hadn't before, given her new perspective above him - he had a funny cowlick at the crown of his head, ashy blond hair sweeping sideways, and at the base of his neck, just to the left of the bone, was a solitary freckle. She bit the inside of her cheek. _It isn't fair that he's so adorable. _

He stepped onto the opposite bank and she slid from his back, but not before pinching him. "You'd make a good pack mule," she grinned.

"What a relief," he said, rolling his eyes. "My life's aspiration."

She was about to challenge him to a race when she caught a closer look at him, and the words died in her throat. He had dark circles under his eyes, which had acquired a dull, sleepy edge since last week. Abruptly the happiness at seeing him again after so long withered in her chest, replaced by worry.

He noticed her staring, as always. "What?"

"How is work?" she asked, attempting to swallow her concern.

He shrugged uncomfortably. "It's all right."

She was starting to grow accustomed with his impulse to deflect personal inquiry. "You hate it, don't you?" she said.

He sighed. "Yeah, I hate it."

They collapsed under the branches of their tree, arms spread eagle, facing the rising sun. "What's it like?" she asked him.

He said nothing at first, and she watched as a small breeze played with a lock of his messy hair. "Bleak," he finally sighed.

She couldn't even imagine – not that he'd been very effusive and full of life a week ago, but his smile had been readier. He hadn't been so tired. "How do you mean?"

"Just really hot, hard to see properly. You feel like you can't breathe right, since the air is so thick. I was so tired after only an hour of shoveling – after a whole day I -" He flushes, for some reason ashamed. "I felt like I'd die."

"I didn't know," she whispered, her throat growing tight.

He chewed on his lower lip. "I heard one of the other stokers talking yesterday – he told me that before the Titans, however many hundreds of years ago that was, they had mills like ours except the steel wasn't as good. And since there were so many people in the world, they could get away with working them to death."

"So they don't do that now?"

"Not as bad," he said with a heavy sigh. "By that, I mean that the old steel workers had to work every day of the week, sometimes for eighteen hours a day, and they only got one holiday off a year."

She was aghast. "Only _one?" _

He nodded. "It would use them up. They'd be old men by the time they were thirty; constantly sick, half dead. You'd see one on the street and think he was twice his age. And they never lasted long." He pressed his lips together. "It would use them up, and the owners wouldn't care."

She struggled to imagine this world without Titans that Auruo described. She'd always thought of it as something pure and good, and the story he'd told her had no place in it. They had no way of knowing for sure – no historical accounts survived, and oral tradition was all that remained. But it had the ring of truth regardless, and it made her hopelessly sad.

"I guess I don't know what my point is," he said heavily. "I was thinking about it a lot last night. I was wondering if it'd be any different for me, if there were no Titans and the world was full of billions of people instead of just a million or so. Keeping us all able to work as long as possible wouldn't matter, since they could just replace us with more poor people desperate for work. I'd be used up even faster than I will be now, probably dead by twenty instead of thirty."

Her eyes abruptly filled with tears, and she felt a sob catch at the back of her throat. She'd had _no idea – _when she'd seen him come home that first night of work, he hadn't only been tired, he'd been convinced that he would drop dead. The scene she'd glimpsed through their window suddenly became less sweet and more horrible, especially the matter-of-fact way his father had said it'd had been the same for him, how he'd been so exhausted that he couldn't even eat.

"I didn't know," she whispered, and her voice caught. She struggled to compose herself – the last thing she wanted was for him to see her weeping like a baby – but he heard the odd note in her voice anyway.

He lurched upright, his hand moving anxiously. "Ah – geez, Petra. I'm sorry, it's really not that bad. I'm just complaining. I –" He trailed off, looking furious with himself. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't," she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Just – just –" She looked at him, at his earnest face contorted with worry on her behalf, those dark circles under his eyes that already made him seem older than she'd ever understand, and what he'd said – _I'll be dead by twenty_.She dissolved again, covering her face with her hands.

"Hey, come on," he said, truly alarmed now. "It's really not that bad."

Before he could say anything else, she threw her arms around him. "You're not going to be dead by twenty," she insisted, her voice shaking. "And you won't be used up. Don't say it or think it anymore, okay?"

He patted her back. "I won't."

"Good," she said. "You're not going to get used up in the steel mill. You're going to join the Survey Corps with me, and we're going to fight the Titans together."

"You're right," he said quietly, and she felt his arms tighten around her. "You're right."

She fell silent and buried her face against his neck. For the first time since they'd met, Auruo did not shift uncomfortably at her touch or look away to hide his blushing. He let her cry and held her exactly as she needed to be held. He smelled like soap and coal smoke, and at that moment she didn't think there was anything more comforting in the world.

Slowly she regained control of herself, and she disentangled herself from his arms. "Sorry," she said, picking at her shoelace. "I know the last thing you probably want to do on your day off is spend it with a crying girl."

"You don't have to be sorry about anything," he said quickly. "If anything, I'm the sorry one. We've met two times, and I've made you cry two times. Not a great start." He rubbed the back of his neck. "And you're not just any girl. You're Petra. You could cry on me all day every day and I'd still want to spend time with you."

She looked up at him, stunned. His expression mirrored hers exactly, as if he couldn't believe he'd admitted something so personal, and so hopelessly endearing_. _"I knew it," she said, and despite everything she grinned. "You _are _sweet."

"Just keep it to yourself," he muttered, crossing his arms. "I have a reputation to maintain."

"No you don't."

"Well, I will. And I don't want it to be a _sweet _one."

She frowned at him. _It's sad he thinks he has to be ashamed of being kind, _she thought. _It's the best thing about him. _

He cleared his throat, eager to change the subject. "What did you do all week?"

She shrugged, fiddling with her shoelace again. "Explored. Found this really sweet mouser by my house, Calliope – I can introduce you to her later, if you want."

"Mousers don't usually like me, but you can try," he grinned.

She shook her head. "I tried to meet some other people, too."

"Oh, right," he said, looking away. He picked at a hangnail on his thumb, and in a flash of intuition she realized he was jealous. Though jealous probably wasn't the right word. Worried, maybe. Afraid she'd get sick of him and leave him behind. The thought was ludicrous, of course – she adored him far too much to leave him. But she understood the fear regardless.

"Didn't have much luck there, not that it's surprising they didn't like me," she said.

"I think that's surprising," he said, looking up. "Why wouldn't they?"

She pressed her hands to her face. "Stop _doing _that!"

"Doing what?!"

"Being so nice!"

He fidgeted uncomfortably. "I'm _not. _It's just a simple question. You're likeable. Why wouldn't they like you?"

She could have kissed him. Truthfully, she'd been feeling insecure since the other kids in town rejected her – as if there was something wrong with her essential makeup, and she was doomed to spend her whole life blundering around, attempting to make connections and failing miserably. There was no way Auruo could have known any of this, but his words eased her fears anyway.

"I'm an intense person, I guess," she said, shrugging. "I'm tiresome. I get really worked up over things, and I guess they don't want to deal with it."

"That just means there's something wrong with them," he said, gesturing expansively. "They're boring and simple minded, and you're _not." _

"You think?"

"Yeah, of course. By the way, they're the ones missing out, not you," he said. "They don't talk about anything but each other. They just sit around and snipe about things because it makes them feel big." His expression was as serious as she'd ever seen it. "You're not like that."

It was the way he'd said it – she wasn't boring or simple minded, and that was a good thing, like it was the _best _thing there could be about a person. She cared about the world, and it was a preferable state to bland acceptance.

"I'm glad we met, Auruo," she said finally.

He blinked. "Where's this coming from?"

"I don't know. Just a thought I had right now." She smiled, scooting closer. "You're a good friend."

"Ah, geez …" he said, and predictably his cheeks darkened. "When I'm not making you cry, anyway."

After that, they did not speak for a long time. They lay back with their arms crossed under their heads and watched the sun peek through the leaves of their tree. It was already warmer than it had been only a week ago; a breeze rustled the branches, casting dancing patterns of shadow and sunlight on the grass.

"I get my wages on Friday," Auruo said after some time.

"Ooh! That's exciting!" she said. "What do you think you'll do with them?"

He watched a flock of birds take flight, soaring overhead. "I was expecting I'd give it all to my parents. You know, money to live on. They say I can keep half of what I earn for myself, though." He frowned. "I didn't think we'd be able to manage it."

"So what will you do with your half?"

He smiled. "I'm going to save it. So that when I join the Survey Corps, I'll have enough saved up, and things will be easier for them. You know, since they won't get a stipend until I'm an actual soldier." He shrugged. "It probably won't last long, but it's better than nothing."

She stared at him, and he noticed. "What?"

_How are you even real? _"That's just … very considerate," she said after a moment.

"Well, it's the best I can do." He shrugged. "When I'm a real soldier, I'll be able to send more." His smile widened. "Cakes for all birthdays and not just mine and Benoit's. New clothes. Stuff like that. Dad's had the same pair of shoes since I was born."

She couldn't speak. _You're the best person I know, _she thought at this earnest, awkward boy, who she had come upon by chance, who she now couldn't imagine living without.

As the sun moved slowly over their heads, Auruo drifted. She watched his eyelids grow heavy, his limbs loose. He shook his head a little, attempting to ward away his exhaustion, and it was so endearing that her heart gave a little twist. She knew that he must be tired, and suddenly she wanted to do everything for him. "You can sleep," she said. "I won't go anywhere."

"No, it's all right," he said, yawning. "We're supposed to do things today. I'm supposed to teach you to skip stones. And you were going to show me Calliope."

"We can do that later," she said, smiling. "Go to sleep."

He frowned at her. "Why is this so important to you?"

"Because I want you to get your rest!" she retorted. "Don't be difficult. You know you're tired."

Grudgingly, he acquiesced. "Don't let me sleep too long," he said.

"I won't."

Gradually, he relaxed. His breathing slowed, his limbs went loose. He curled onto his side, cradling his head in his arms. She never thought she'd see such a thing; a person given to tension and anxiety slowly coming apart, each taut line relaxing until only softness remained. In less than a minute, he was asleep.

Another warm breeze rustled through the branches, the leaves a chorus whispering _shhh. _A lock of ashy blond hair fell into his eyes, and she gently brushed it away. If he'd been awake he would have blushed, she knew; now he only leaned into her hand, his mouth opening, and she smiled. She would wait as long as he needed. She wasn't going anywhere.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Thanks to hangefan and Seryan Parks for your reviews, and to everyone else who read, faved and followed! Your feedback is so inspiring to me! **

Auruo wiped his brow with the back of his hand. He had grown accustomed to the ache in his back and shoulders after a shift, but today he didn't think any pain could touch him. Today, he looked out the high windows of the mill to the horizon, streaked with the pink of sunset, and felt his heart lift. After four years of working at the steel mill, he was free. Tomorrow was his sixteenth birthday. Tomorrow, he and Petra would finally enlist.

He waited for the end of shift bell, his entire body buzzing with unbearable anticipation. He lifted on the balls of his feet like a sprinter preparing for the opening shot of a race. At this moment, he thought that he'd even be able to outrun Petra, the fastest person alive. In fact, tomorrow he decided he would try.

And there it was; the bell. With a grin, he pushed back the heat visor and stripped his protective gloves, striding over to the foreman who, for his part, did not look pleased to see him. "Something you want, Bossard?"

"Yeah," Auruo said, shoving his gear into the foreman's chest, noting with pleasure that he was able to look well over the foreman's head now. "I quit."

"You got something better lined up?"

"I'm enlisting."

The foreman nodded, as if this were an expected outcome. "Gonna try and get out of this dump and join the Military Police?"

Auruo could not keep the incredulous disdain out of his voice. "No."

"Oh, right, right. You're some kind of idealist. Gonna join the Survey Corps, make a _difference."_

"That's right."

"They'll be bringing you back on a slab, Bossard. Sooner or later, it happens to all them Survey Corps stiffs."

"Thanks for your concern," Auruo said sarcastically. "Have a nice life."

Before the foreman could respond to his rudeness, he turned on his heel and burst through the door into the busy streets. He couldn't keep himself from running, pushing himself faster, weaving around passers-by like a bird finally freed from its cage. He nearly bit through his tongue trying to keep from laughing aloud.

"Maniac," someone muttered. The word hardly touched him.

That night he could hardly sit still enough to eat or interact with his family, or even react to the typical craziness of his home. He now had four little brothers with a fifth on the way (a fact that he would have found embarrassing if he didn't love those little brats). All throughout dinner Benoit and Christophe sat at his feet and pulled at his pant leg until he acquiesced, hauling them up into his lap and bouncing them on his knees.

"It's your birthday!" Benoit said, pulling on his arm.

"Tomorrow," Auruo reminded him.

"Cake!" screeched Christophe.

"Cake _tomorrow,"_ Auruo said, grinning.

Benoit stopped pulling on Auruo's arm and looked up at him with wide eyes. "Is Petra coming over?"

He'd said the only word that could distract Christophe from the prospect of imminent cake. "Petra?"

"Yeah, tomorrow," Auruo said.

"Tomorrow now?" Christophe wanted to know.

Auruo poked him in the stomach, and he giggled. "It's not tomorrow until you go to sleep and wake up."

He hadn't been surprised to find that each of his brothers had taken a liking to Petra, who in the last few years had become a constant fixture in their home. Maybe she was right, and she really did have a way with kids. His father liked to joke that she had a way with Bossards, which at the time had embarrassed him so badly he couldn't speak for a full minute. Petra found it hilarious, of course, and elbowed him from under the table until he laughed too.

After dinner, he helped put his brothers to bed. Benoit and Christophe wouldn't stop wiggling with excitement and Auruo had to tell them three stories to get them to calm down long enough for them to fall asleep. Didier and Étienne went down easier. Étienne was too young to understand everything that he said, but the sound of his voice was enough to finish the job, and out of his brothers Didier was by far the quietest and easiest to calm.

Auruo left their room to find his parents washing dishes, his mother wiping at her eyes before turning around to face him. "Oh, Auruo. Help me with this, would you?" she asked him, her voice thick.

_Ah, shit. _He knew they were about to have the same conversation they'd had daily for the last six months, as the last day he'd be eligible to enlist drew closer. "Sure, mom," he said, shrugging. Maybe if he did his work quietly, she wouldn't bring it up.

That hope lasted about five minutes, after which she turned to face him, her red eyes wide. "Do you really have to do this?" she whispered.

"Yes, mom," he said, gently as he could.

"You do good work at the mill. You're helping there just as much as you would in the Survey Corps."

"It's not the same," he said, scrubbing a food encrusted plate. "We talked about this, remember?"

"I don't understand why you think you have to do this," she said, staring at her hands.

He resisted the urge to sigh, since he had lost count of how many times he'd explained it. "Because I get paid good money on a soldier's salary, and I could finally pay for you all to live in a nice house. You know, a house where five boys don't have to all sleep in the same room."

"I don't care about that," his mother said. "I want you to stay home, where it's safe."

He hated these appeals, hated having to look his weeping mother in the eye and tell her that his place wasn't in a safe home behind the Walls, but out in the dangerous world, making it better for the people he cared about. But every time he tried to put this sentiment into words, he just got upset and started yelling, so instead he looked down at his feet, scuffing the dirty floors. "It's not like you'll never see me again," he said. "Cadets get some time off to see family every couple months."

"I'm not worried about the Cadets," she snapped. "God knows you'll do fine there. You'll distinguish yourself and run off to the Scouting Legion, and get yourself killed thinking you're some big hero. Just think about what it'd do to me, if that happened. What it'd do to your father, your brothers."

"Mom," he said quietly. "Stop. Making me feel like shit is not going to change my mind."

"Just tell me _why,"_ she begged.

"Because things could be better, and they won't get any better if people are afraid to do anything about it," he said, starting to get upset. "Because I'm not content to wait around for the Titans to finish us all off, and I don't want to see my family crushed and eaten because I was like every other coward happy to just screw off with his thumb up his ass while pretending nothing is wrong."

She was so upset she didn't address the foul language. "But the Walls—"

"Oh, god! The Walls, the Walls. The Walls are bullshit, Mom," he said, throwing up his hands. "Wouldn't you like to live in a place without walls? I know I would!"

He didn't wait for her to reply; he threw down the dishtowel and stalked off to his room. Even though he was mad enough to spit glass, he couldn't slam the door – his brothers were sleeping, and the last thing he wanted was to wake them up and have to calm them down again. He contented himself with pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, hard enough that he saw only darkness cut by whirling geometric shapes.

There was a very small, uncharitable corner of his heart that was looking forward to leaving. He would miss his family terribly, but at the same time as a Cadet he wouldn't have to sit through nightly brow-beating over his life choices. Theoretically, anyway.

Auruo pulled off his shirt and collapsed onto his bed, pawing at his messy hair in a futile attempt to smooth it flat. He heard his father speaking in a low voice, and his mother's tearful reply an octave higher. He didn't know what upset him more – that she managed to make his decisions all about her, or that she had so little faith in him that she acted like he was dead already. _Not everyone in the Survey Corps dies their first day, you know! _he thought angrily.

He heard blankets rustling and little feet padding across the floor, and then the next thing he knew a warm, wriggly little body had clambered up in bed with him, snuggling under his arm. "Why is Mom crying?" Benoit asked.

"Everything makes her cry these days," Auruo said heavily. "'Cause she's having another baby."

"What's that got to do with it?"

Auruo shrugged. "It just happens every time."

Benoit was quiet, poking at Auruo's side with sticky fingers. "She doesn't want you to go."

"Why'd you ask why she was crying if you already knew the answer?"

"Dunno," Benoit said. His little chin wobbled. "I don't want you to go."

It was a lot harder to yell at his little brother – who followed him around like a lost puppy, who was five going on thirty, already trying to be so brave at an age when no one should have to. He pulled Benoit closer and pinched him. "It's not forever, Benny."

"Uh huh," Benoit sniffed. "You'll forget all about me."

"I could _never _forget about you," Auruo said. "You're my first little brat brother."

But Benoit was not comforted. "I don't want you to forget me," he said tremulously, burying his face in Auruo's side.

_Ah, geez. _Auruo swallowed the tightness growing in his throat. "Hey, look. Every week I'll write you a letter, okay? And then you write me one back. I'll tell you everything that happens, and you tell me everything that happens, so it'll almost be like I'm here and you're there. Okay?"

Benoit mulled this over. "I can't read and write good yet."

"Then it'll be good practice," Auruo said. "Come on, Benny. It's gonna be all right."

Finally Benoit nodded, rubbing his eyes with his fists. "Okay."

"And while I'm gone, you're gonna be the oldest, so you have to look out for all our brothers. Especially the new baby. All right?" Auruo nodded seriously. "It's a very important job. You're the only one who can do it."

"You'll always be the oldest," Benoit said, nose wrinkling.

"Yeah, but you'll be _acting _oldest," Auruo explained. "You got to be patient when Christophe steals your toys and when Étienne cries all night. And you have to be patient with Mom and Dad too, even when they annoy or embarrass you." He grinned. "You'll probably do better at that part than I do."

After a moment, Benoit broke into a grin. Auruo's impatience when it came to their parents was almost a running joke between them at this point. "Anyone'd be better at it than you."

"Well, geez! Try and be nice to my brat little brother and this is what I get." He poked Benoit in the ribs until the younger boy snickered, wiggling so hard that Auruo had to grab him to keep him from falling off the bed.

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" Benoit asked, hugging Auruo tighter around the middle.

"Sure, Benny. But if you start kicking me again I'm dumping you on the floor."

"Noo!"

"I mean it, you little brat." He didn't really.

Benoit quickly fell asleep after that, but Auruo remained awake, watching the stars through the open window. A breeze swept through the room, tousling his hair and cooling his skin. An odd feeling filled him, increasing as he looked down at his brother and the worried little crease between his brows.

He hadn't expected this to be easy. He knew it was going to be a sacrifice. Three years in training, and then a lifetime in the Survey Corps. But every time he thought about his life and future in selfish terms, like his mother so desperately wanted him to do, he remembered the Titans on the other side of the walls, and how every year it seemed like their world got smaller and smaller.

He didn't want that for his family. He wanted them to live in an open place without walls, without the threat of total extermination hanging over their heads. He didn't want that for Petra either, the brightest person he knew. The best, the loveliest. A thousand other superlatives.

"Auruo!" someone hissed from below the open window. His heart leapt.

"Petra?"

Her moonlit face peeked up from below the windowsill, and the instant she caught sight of him a huge smile curved her lips. "Happy birthday, weirdo."

"What are you doing?!"

"I couldn't sleep," she said, and without asking she clambered onto the window ledge, perching there with grace that wasn't possible for normal people. Her smile faded as she took in the sight of him, her gaze drifting down to his chest. "Why aren't you wearing a shirt?"

_Oh my god. _He'd totally forgotten. "It's hot tonight!" he said defensively, his face burning with shame.

She wasn't convinced. "_Shh!"_

"You shh!" he retorted, scowling. "You're the one screeching about my shirt."

She didn't dignify this with a response. Her gaze trailed over Benoit's sleeping form, who was still curled into Auruo's side. Her expression softened. "Separation anxiety?"

He sighed. "Yeah."

"Well, I won't get in the way, then."

"Nah, it's all right. Just hold on." He carefully disentangled himself from Benoit's arms and pulled a shirt off the floor, yanking it over his head before climbing into the window and settling next to her. She threw her elbow into his side, and this time he almost broke the silence with a yelp of pain – her elbows were sharper than knives.

"Like I said," she smirked. "Happy birthday, weirdo."

"You're the weirdo," he shot back, but he grinned too.

After four years of friendship, bickering, and assorted adventures, he could honestly say that Petra Ral was the most important person in his life, and in fact he couldn't imagine a life without her in it. They'd spent every Sunday together for the last four years, and most weeks she'd even come by for dinner or slip into his room in the middle of the night, where they'd talk until the sun came up. He'd seen her sick, seen her hurt, seen her laugh so hard that she'd snorted, water shooting out of her nose. And it was the same for her; she'd seen him at his worst and had somehow not gotten sick of him yet. He adored her.

He loved her.

But it was complicated, because she wasn't the adorable eleven-year old girl that had crash-landed in his life anymore. Now, she was beautiful in a different way, and he often found himself noticing things that he had not noticed before; the curve of her back, breasts that had not been there last year, the graceful way her wrists tapered into slim hands, the slight hollow at her collarbone, the pale skin of her neck and the way sometimes her fingers would lightly brush there.

He'd choke on his tongue before he said anything, of course. She probably didn't have any idea how deeply her physical presence affected him these days – there was no intent in the way she moved. She came by it naturally.

But that didn't change that the entire affair was inconvenient, and often humiliating. He knew that if she could read his mind she'd be horrified. She'd probably find his inexplicable fascination a betrayal and never speak to him again, which was the last thing he wanted. So he resolved to pretend these odd feelings did not exist. But sometimes she would lean close and her sudden proximity would stun him. She would touch his hand and he wouldn't be able to breathe.

"You look kind of upset," she said finally. "Your mom still giving you a hard time?"

He sighed. "It's like the closer enlistment day gets, the harder she pushes me to stay. 'What if you die, think about what it'll do to us.' That kind of thing."

"I've thought about that a lot," Petra said, her voice soft. "It's just … I don't know. I wish they understood we were doing this for them."

"Right, exactly," he said, trying not to smile. She always understood him so well. "I think she'll come around. When I don't die on my first expedition."

"You sure won't," she said, shooting him a sly grin. "Not with me watching your back."

"Except I'm pretty sure we've established it's gonna be _me _watching out for _you."_

She rolled her eyes. "You know, I came over to give you your birthday present, but if you're going to be ridiculous I think I'll just give it to Benoit."

"That'd probably cheer him up," Auruo said, looking over his shoulder at the sleeping boy still curled around the place he'd been on the mattress.

"As sweet as I think that is," she said, smirking when he made a wordless sound of outrage, "this present isn't really appropriate for a five year old."

He suddenly imagined her leaning forward, her hand on his thigh, her lips – he pushed the vision away, furious with himself, and cleared his throat. "Should I be scared?" he said.

"No, of course not," she said, and she rummaged through the pocket of her dress until she'd produced an object wrapped in linen. Gently, she placed it in his upturned hands, her smile expectant. "Go on!"

He didn't immediately; instead he studied her face, enjoying her enthusiasm. They had never exchanged gifts before, and he wondered how she'd come by the money to wrangle it. Skimming off her wages, probably. Gently, he folded back the linen.

"It's a knife," he said.

"It's one of those survivalist blades," she explained. "Last time we watched the Scouting Legion leave, I saw that the Commander had one. It won't be much use against Titans, but then again Titans aren't the only thing outside the Walls that can hurt you." Like daylight shifting to clouds, she was suddenly intense as she looked at him, her gaze sharp as the blade in his hands. "I'd rather you have it and not need it than the other way around."

He couldn't speak. He didn't think she'd ever regard him the way he did her, with love so large it often felt like the sun had lodged itself in his chest, but that she regarded him as worth consideration at all was beyond his ability to describe. "Thanks," he murmured, turning the knife over in his hands. The pommel was as smooth to touch as skin.

She shrugged, and her easy smile was back. "Oh, it's not a big deal. I just saw it and knew you'd like it."

And he did like it; he liked the idea of being prepared outside the Wall, of being able to handle anything that came at him. "You know this means I'm going to have to get you something for your birthday too."

He was surprised to see a flash of hurt cross her expression, and realized too late that what he'd said was thoughtless. "You don't_ have_ to do anything," she said, her shoulders lifting, her arms crossing over her stomach.

"Shit, Petra. That's not what I meant. I just meant … fuck. I just meant we haven't ever done gifts before. So I'm thinking now I can. I mean … I've wanted to." He trailed off, so angry with himself that his hands clenched into tight fists in his lap.

She cocked her head. "You've wanted to?"

"Well, yeah." He shrugged, uncomfortable. "Of course. I know you well enough for it."

"You think so, huh?"

Her posture relaxed, and he knew he was forgiven. "I know so," he said, grinning.

"Well, then I look forward to what you give me with eager anticipation," she said. "But I'm pretty sure I'll win this one."

"You can't possibly know that, since I haven't given you anything yet!" he retorted. "And why is this suddenly a competition?"

"Because they're fun," she said simply. "Because you get so absorbed by it, and I like that."

"And you don't?!"

"Not like you."

"What _bullshit! _Who's the one who gets so wrapped up in our races? Not me!"

"You don't because you know you'll lose."

He shot her a dangerous grin. "You know, Petra, it's been awhile since we had a race. Maybe it's time for you to back up your boasting for once."

Her eyes flashed. "I won't go easy on you because it's your birthday."

"When do you ever go easy on me?"

"All the time."

This wasn't true and they both knew it. Petra was just as intense and competitive as he could be, if not more so, and her pity did not manifest in throwing competitions in his favor. He decided not to dignify this with a response. "I'll see you tomorrow, Petra. Make sure you get your rest. You'll need it."

"Oh, am I being dismissed now?" she asked him, sly. "Better trundle off, then." She hopped off the windowsill and straightened her dress with prim, efficient movements. But before he could slide back into his room, she reached out and touched his arm. "You better make sure you get _your_ rest, Auruo. _You'll need it."_

He tried not to jump at her touch, at the feel of her fingers on his bare arm. "Tch. Get out of here before you wake up my brothers."

She squeezed his arm once, and then she was gone. He saw the hem of her dress whipping out of sight as she rounded the corner and sped down the street; he could hear her footsteps echoing off the streets as she ran, faster than a streak of sunlight, faster than anything.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Many special thanks to hangefan, Seryan Parks, Anon1, Anon2, and Uno for your reviews, and to everyone else who read, faved and followed!**

Petra woke with the sunrise. Typically she was an energetic riser – it was common for her to wake before even the birds that roosted in the attic - but today she nearly flew out of bed. She dressed and braided her hair carelessly, tucking her blouse into the waist of her skirt without really paying attention to what she was doing.

She and Auruo had reached a point in their friendship where she'd started looking forward to his birthdays more than her own. It _was_ a significant day, for a lot of reasons. It was the anniversary of the day they met, and a day where she had a legitimate excuse to hang around his house, playing with his brothers and chatting with his parents, all of whom she adored. And today, during the last enlistment week for which they were eligible, they would finally join the army.

Her father was already awake, and he smiled when she walked into the kitchen. "Morning, sunshine."

"Dad," she sighed. "Don't call me that." But she pressed a kiss to the top of his head anyway.

She plowed through breakfast, scarfing two rolls and a rare glass of milk and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She stoutly ignored her father's bemused expression, partly because she had no intention of entertaining a debate today and partly because she was so impatient to get to the river that she was incapable of keeping herself still and controlled. Her entire body had become a conduit for her excitement, and she couldn't contain it.

As she reached for the door, her father broke the silence. "Your skirt is inside out," he said mildly.

So it was – the seam hanging out for all to see. She squeaked and ran back to her room.

_Hurry up, hurry up. _She didn't know why she felt so driven to leave this morning, only that it was imperative she leave as quickly as possible. But as she stepped out of her skirt and turned it right side in, she heard a tentative knock on the door. _Oh no. _

Her father opened the door. "Yes?"

"Oh, Mr. Ral. Um … is Petra home?"

Auruo, of course. _No, no, no. _ She quickly fastened her skirt and burst out into the kitchen, beaming at them both. "Here, sorry!"

Auruo's expression was a study in adorable relief. "Hey."

Her father's, on the other hand, could have sundered the Walls themselves.

For some reason, her father had formed a resoundingly negative opinion of Auruo. Every Sunday he would grumble under his breath about that strange, disagreeable boy and how she spent too much time with him. The few times they'd interacted almost always ended in disaster, and it was a disaster Petra had no desire to repeat this morning.

"See you later, Dad," she said, giving her father a quick peck on the cheek before pushing Auruo gently out the door.

"Bossard," her father said, his voice almost unfamiliar in its severity. "I need to speak to you."

_Oh no._

Auruo faced her father, his back ramrod straight. She noticed the flicker of discomfort that crossed his expression only because she knew him so well. "Yes, sir."

"Despite my best efforts, my daughter has decided to join the military, and she's told me you intend to do so as well."

Auruo nodded. "Yes, sir."

Her father seemed to struggle, as if forcing himself to overcome his great personal dislike of the boy standing at her side. "I want you to swear to me that you'll look out for her," he said between his teeth. "That'll you'll do everything you can to keep her safe."

_Oh, god. _She could see the battle play out on his face; Auruo's need to be accepted by her father conflicting with something he found offensive and stupid. She resisted the urge to jam her elbow into his ribs. _Just smile, say yes sir, for the love of all that's good –_

But of course this was Auruo, and his big mouth won out over common sense. He looked at her father with that serious, stubborn expression she had come to know so well. "Not that I won't do everything I can, but you know Petra can take care of herself, right?"

She bit back a groan when she saw her father's jaw drop – in anger, or at the sheer audacity of what Auruo had said. Before anyone could make another sound she seized Auruo by the elbow, her fingers digging into his arm so tightly that he yelped. "Gotta go, bye Dad!" she positively screeched, hauling Auruo out of her house and half-running, half-dragging him down the street.

"You just _had _to say what you were thinking," she chastised him. "Couldn't keep your mouth shut. Had to be a big hero."

"Well, yeah! Does he even _know _you?!" Auruo asked. "And for crying out loud, let go of my arm!"

"He just wants to know I'll be all right!"

"He thinks you're this wilting little flower," Auruo said, incredulous. "He's clearly never had his arm crushed by you before."

"Keep being a jerk and I'll do more than crush your arm!"

"Ah, geez! Will you calm the fuck down?!"

"I told you stop using that language!" She glared up at him. "Sometimes you're unbelievable! Every time we have this conversation you go out of your way to tell me that I'm going to need Big Strong You to look out for me, but the second my dad, _who is obviously distraught and worried about me, _asks you to do exactly that, you throw it back in his face!"

He yanked his arm out of her grip, his face a furious red. "Do you think I'm being serious when I say you're going to need me to look out for you?!"

"Well, aren't you?"

"_NO!"_

She blinked, too stunned to be angry. "What?"

"For crying out loud, Petra! When we met I was the one getting my ass kicked, and _you _were the one who came to my fucking rescue! Or did you forget?"

"Of course not!"

"So I don't understand what the big surprise here is. _That's the joke. _We're going to join the Cadets, and you're going to … you're going to be amazing! I already know it. I knew it right away, when you were chomping at the bit to give those assholes what was coming to them. That's why it pissed me off, what your dad said. I know he's worried, I know that's part of it, and I get it! I really do. But … I just don't think he sees you clearly sometimes."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Like, I think he honestly believes that you're going to struggle and you won't be able to handle it, so better ask the dumb, scrawny boy you're always hanging around to step up and keep his sunshine safe. Like you're not your own person but this untouchable delicate little treasure that's going to get smashed if no one's looking after it. And it just pissed me off_._ I'm sorry."

"So I'm not some untouchable delicate treasure," she said, frowning.

"Not like that. God, Petra. You're the toughest person I know. And scariest, sometimes."

She craned up to look at him. "So I'm an untouchable treasure in some other way?"

He blushed so badly that the tips of his ears turned red. "I'm not explaining this anymore. I'm sorry I pissed off your dad, okay?" He scuffed the ground and scowled. "Maybe one of these days I'll figure out how to keep my mouth shut."

"Probably not any day soon," she said, biting back a smile. Auruo could be insensitive and crass, and he possessed barely any tact whatsoever, but at the same time it was wrapped in his strange method of caring. She liked that he thought she was strong – that she was worthwhile and able, and not some bauble in need of protection. So she decided he was forgiven.

Auruo ran his fingers through his messy hair. "Your life would probably be a lot easier if he didn't hate my guts, but pretty sure I've burnt that bridge."

"He doesn't hate you."

"He does a damn good impression of it, then."

She looped her arm through his, and they continued on like that through the gate and to the river. "He's just upset about me leaving. There's probably a part of him that thinks you're responsible."

"You wanted to join the Survey Corps before you ever met me," Auruo pointed out.

"Maybe he forgot that," she said. "He does think I'm a lot better than I am."

"You _are_ better," Auruo insisted. "Just not like he wants."

She frowned, digging her nails into the flesh of her thumb. All of this was true, in some form or another, but she felt guilty talking about her father like this behind his back. He was exacting and oblivious, of course, but he was also warm and loving. He heartily disproved of Auruo and yet still allowed her to see him as much as she wanted (though she knew that he wouldn't be pleased if he knew about the fact that she often went to see Auruo in the middle of the night, and usually in her nightgown).

But the point was that her father loved her. He did everything he could for her. They were each other's only family.

"I'll shut up about it," Auruo said, watching her. Of course he'd read her mind – he'd gotten pretty good at sensing the minute shifts in her mood based on facial quirks alone, and she was even better at recognizing his.

"No, it's all right. I guess I just realized that he's going to be alone when I leave."

Auruo's expression was uncomfortable. "Yeah."

"It's different for your parents. I mean, not like your brothers will replace you or anything, but they still have a house full of kids. It's loud and alive, and your mom's going to have another baby soon, so there's always something going on. But it's easier to feel lonely when it's quiet, you know? And it's just going to be Dad, all alone in a quiet house."

"Maybe he'll get remarried?" Auruo said hopefully.

"I don't think so," she said. "I've tried bringing it up but he just gets so sad. He still misses my mom." She felt her lower lip trembling, and bit it hard.

Auruo was quiet for a long moment. "Do you want to stay?"

"That's the worst part; _no. _I would hate myself if I did."

His expression had become serious. "We always knew this was going to be hard."

"Yeah," she said, holding his arm closer. "It's different, though. We're actually doing it today."

He said nothing, and she figured he was probably thinking about his own family. She remembered peeking in through his window to see Benoit's arms wrapped closely around Auruo waist, his little face pinched with unhappiness even in sleep, and how far away Auruo's gaze had been before he'd caught sight of her. He had looked so remote in that moment that she wondered if she'd ever be able to reach him, if he'd even be able to hear her voice. With an odd thrill, she remembered that he hadn't been wearing a shirt, and that his chest was surprisingly lean and well-muscled. _Why is that surprising? He's worked at the steel mill for four years. _She shook away the thought, inexplicably embarrassed.

"Come on," she said. "We have a few hours before they open enlistment. I'd be really upset with myself if we spent your last birthday at home moping around."

"Who's moping?" he said, but he grinned.

They made their way through the village on the other side of Wall Rose. The streets here were considerably narrower than in Karanese, and most of the houses were home to farmers and craftsman. But it was beautiful, and in fact Petra got the feeling that the villagers here preferred to have the Wall at their back, with the pastoral landscape spread out before them. She could understand that desire; Karanese was a fine enough place to live, but she often fantasized about living in the country somewhere, maybe at the foot of a mountain with a clear river running right past her cottage.

She snuck a glance at Auruo from the corner of her eye. He'd stuffed his hands in his pockets, kicking at the dusty cobblestones, but he wore a content smile. She realized that he was humming a tune she'd only ever heard from him, in the rare times he let down his guard long enough to sing. She didn't know why he was so shy about it – he had one of the loveliest voices she'd ever heard.

To her delight, he began to sing in a low, clear tenor:

"_Il y a longtemps que je t'aime__  
__Jamais je ne t'oublierai."_

He broke off abruptly when he noticed her stare, his face flushing. "What?!"

"I wish you would sing more," she said. "You know you have a nice voice."

"Ugh," he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair.

"You do! If I could sing like you, I'd never shut up."

"You never shut up anyway."

She ignored the barb because she knew they were his favorite means of deflection when something made him uncomfortable. "What do the words mean?"

His flush deepened. "I dunno."

"Yes, you do."

"I don't! Mom sings it, I just was tryin' to get it out of my head."

She shot him an incredulous look. "You know the problem with lying to me is that I know you extremely well, so I always know when you're lying."

"Is that so, huh? How do you _always _know?"

"You have a tell. And I'm not telling you what it is."

He sighed. "Of course you're not."

With the ease of habit, he slipped out of his shoes and passed them to her, and she hopped onto his back. She no longer watched the river apprehensively; she knew that Auruo would never drop her, that he was steady on his feet, and she was safe. She knew everything about his part in this ritual; the little huff of breath that escaped him as he steadied his hold on her, the strong planes of his back and the way the muscles there engaged when he gripped her tightly, the solitary freckle at the base of his neck peeking out from the collar of his shirt, just to the side of the bone. Her stomach gave another lurch as she looked at it; she'd always found it adorable, but today she was filled with the strange impulse to press her lips there.

_What is wrong with you?! _she thought frantically._ Stop being so weird, weirdo! _

When they reached the other side, she slid gratefully from his back, smoothing her skirt with nervous hands. He turned and faced her with a smug grin, and for one wild second she feared that he'd read her mind and found her odd preoccupation hilarious. "So I seem to remember you accepting my challenge last night," he said, and relief flooded her.

"It wasn't much of a challenge," she said.

"Well, geez! I thought maybe you'd be nice to me for just one day of my life, considering it's my birthday and all."

"Why would I want to do something like that?"

He drew a line in the dirt before straightening to his full height, his smirk widening. "Right. So we're establishing right now that you're not going to go easy on me."

"I never have and never will."

He seemed entirely too pleased by this, and she narrowed her eyes as she took her place behind the line. He was too obvious – she knew his face and expressions better than her own, and he clearly had something up his sleeve. There was no way he'd become a faster runner than her in the space of a week, since their last race and his total defeat. Yet he regarded her smugly, entirely too satisfied with himself.

Auruo sank into his position behind the line. "All right, then. You ready?"

"Ready when you are."

"You sure? You sure you're ready? Positive?"

"What are you-?"

"GO!"

He took off like a gunshot.

_That little cheat! – _It took her a full second to react before she broke into a dead sprint, driving herself harder than she ever had, but it was almost for nothing at this point; she watched with enraged dismay as he sprinted ahead, throwing up a small cloud of dust with each footfall. And she had to admit it now – he was a rotten cheat, but he wasn't that weedy little boy anymore, struggling to keep pace with her as she soared. He was tall and strong, and she had to push to her full speed to close the gap between them.

Despite her valiant effort, he still reached the tree first, if only by the very skin of his teeth. He let out a whoop, punching at the sky. "HA!" he cried. "Auruo Bossard, native son of Karanese District, in a landslide victory! Ladies and gentleman, what a finish. Truly inspired!"

She was so angry that it took her a moment to form words. "You – you – _cheat!" _she hissed.

He faced her, his expression comically wounded. "_Me? Cheat? _Ladies and gentleman, this looks to be a clear case of sour grapes from the loser, Ms. Petra Ral." He tutted. "Such a shameful display."

"You took off before I was ready!"

"I asked you like five times if you were!"

"You completely broke the rules, I can't believe it!"

"What rules?!"

"You know what rules!" she screeched. "_There are rules!"_

He bit his lip against a grin. "I had no idea you were such a sore loser."

Her eye twitched. "_Sore … loser?"_

"I've been losing these races for years and you've never seen me act like this." He couldn't keep himself from grinning now, and the sight of his smug adorable face made her blood boil. "I can't believe it. Petra Ral, giant sore loser."

"_You're going to regret that,"_ she said. She took a step closer.

And only then did the smug smile leave his face. He held up his hands. "Petra, come on. It was a joke."

"Right, right. Just a joke." Another step.

His eyes went wide. "You're doing that scary thing again."

"_Good." _She raised her hands, and the blood drained from his face. He knew what was coming. He knew there was no escape.

"Petra, _don't," _he said, but it was too late; she took a running leap, tackled him to the ground, and proceeded to tickle him without mercy. It was something they'd done for ages, ever since she discovered he was ticklish by accidentally poking him in the ribs, and she would exploit this weakness whenever he did something to annoy her. And right now, she was _pissed._

He thrashed, laughing hysterically. "Augh! I take it back!"

"Take _what _back?"

"You're not a sore loser!" he wheezed, desperately trying to throw her off.

She grinned, already less pissed. "And?"

"I'm a cheat! _I can't breathe!"_

She desperately wanted to stay angry at his shenanigans, but instead she giggled. It didn't help that he was adorable, laughing so loudly that a flock of birds in the tree took off in an angry flutter of wings. If she hadn't done this before she almost wouldn't have recognized that it was him, given that he was usually more prone to smirks and scowls - nothing as blatant as open laughter. All in all, it was fine. It was _normal. _Just another Sunday.

Later, she would look back on that moment and wonder exactly how it had transpired; exactly how his hands had shot out and gripped her tightly around her wrists, how he had thrown his weight and twisted, pinning her with a triumphant 'ha!' as he gained the upper hand. All she knew was that one moment he had been at her mercy, and the next she was flat on her back staring up at him, completely at his.

He was breathing hard. Slowly the victorious smile faded into something stricken, his eyes going wide as he realized what he had done, but he did not move, and neither could she. They were frozen, staring at each other.

There was a dim part of her mind that wondered why she couldn't react as always – curse and thrash, grinning because it was part of the game. She realized that this was no game; this was unfamiliar, dangerous ground – something she had been too blind and stubborn to consider.

She was terrified. Not of him, but of herself, of the odd thrill that coursed through her, this strange pleasure that she should find herself in such a position with him. She felt as if something she'd always taken for truth had been proven a lie, and in the most stunning, violent way possible. He was _Auruo_, her best friend, the boy she'd saved and the one who had saved her, the person she trusted more than anyone else in the world. He'd always been safe and familiar, yet as she looked up into his wide hazel eyes she suddenly felt as if she'd never seen him before.

His hands were hot around her wrists, and she noticed they trembled. His face was flushed. His mouth moved soundlessly as he tried to speak, and his throat worked when he swallowed. She felt as if she really were seeing these things for the first time – the parts rather than the sum she'd always taken for granted, this vastly different Auruo than the one with whom she'd spent so many years knowing. He was not a weedy boy but tall and strong, _enticing. Attractive?!_

She couldn't breathe.

Just as abruptly, Auruo was gone, releasing his hold on her wrists and leaping off her as if she'd burned him. His wide hands made and remade nervous shapes before he held one out to her. She took it dimly, and he pulled her to her feet. How had she never noticed how _tall _he was, how strong? She had, probably, but always in an abstract capacity. At this moment, it was the furthest thing from abstract she could possibly imagine.

He cleared his throat. "Um, sorry."

"For what?" she said, shrugging. She'd tried to sound blasé, but her breathless voice betrayed her.

Something seemed to break him out of his nervous stupor. "I pinned you pretty hard. Your head all right?"

Ah – concern. She rubbed the place where it'd struck. Maybe that was it – she'd hit her head and all these odd thoughts were the result of a concussion. To her dismay, she could feel no pain or bruises, so she decided to lie. The last thing she wanted was for their friendship to be forever ruined by this sudden realization and subsequent awkwardness. "A bit sore," she managed.

"Shit," he said, taking a step forward. "I'm really sorry. Shit."

"Stop swearing," she said reflexively. "It's not that bad. I've knocked your head worse before."

"And I probably deserved it, unlike you. _Shit_."

"Stop swearing!" she said. "Geez, Auruo. Calm down. I thought you said I'm not a delicate little bauble."

"You're not," he agreed. His hands dropped to his sides, clenching into fists once before relaxing. "I'm sorry."

"And stop apologizing!" she said, smiling a little despite herself. "Come on. Let's go back."

So they did. He spoke and she responded, and she tried desperately to resume as they had been only this morning; better than friends, practically family, but still friends – still safe. But now it was as if everything he did served as affirmation to the uncomfortable, inconvenient truth that she would sooner choke on than admit.

_How had this even happened?_

Hoof beats startled her out of her musing, and she looked up to see a uniformed man riding desperately for the Karanese gate, his green cloak wiping behind him as he rode. Auruo held out his arm in front of her – reflexively, she thought – but the rider slowed when he caught sight of them. She opened her mouth to greet him when his appearance stalled the words in her mouth. His uniform was covered in dirt and blood, and his expression was harrowed, haunting; it was the face of a man who had seen something terrible.

"What is it?" Auruo called.

The man jabbed toward the gate. "Get inside, both of you. This area is no longer safe."

"What are you talking about?" Auruo demanded. "What's happened?"

The soldier shuddered, his hands tightening on the reins of his horse. "Titans," he said hoarsely. "Wall Maria has fallen."


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Thanks to Anon and Seryan Parks for your reviews, and to everyone else who read, faved and followed! **

Auruo stared at the soldier; his blood streaked uniform, the pitted circles under his eyes, hands clenched into shaking fists over the reins of his horse. Though he appeared exhausted, every few moments he would look over his shoulder and no matter where he trained his eyes on the bucolic landscape, he found no relief.

Petra recovered first. "Wall Maria?" she blurted. "But … how?"

The soldier didn't seem to hear her question. "Get inside the Walls! It's not safe!" With a shudder, he spurred his horse and streaked down the road before finally passing under the open gate.

And why wouldn't it be open? Why would Wall Rose have to employ the same stringent measures as Wall Maria, the first bulwark against the Titans? There was a village just on the outside of the Wall, one they passed through every Sunday to get to their river. No one thought anything of it. The Walls kept the Titans out; that was the tradeoff. But if Wall Maria had fallen, everything that lay outside Wall Rose no longer belonged to them.

Hadn't he thought it, only the night before? He'd felt as if every day their world grew smaller, and here it was; the vast landscape that existed between Rose and Maria, claimed by Titans. Their whole world, cut by a third. The implications rocked him, and he felt himself shudder involuntarily, nausea curdling in his gut.

"Auruo!" Petra cried, shaking his arm. "Come on!"

They sprinted for the gate. Already the villagers milled nervously around, stunned by the appearance of the blood-streaked rider. He'd be heading for the Garrison, Auruo guessed, so that was where they needed to go. He grabbed Petra's hand and held it tightly, so that they wouldn't be separated by the uneasy crowd.

It took them a good twenty minutes to get back inside the safety of Karanese District, and not once in that time did Auruo let go of Petra's hand. An odd instinctual knowledge filled him; it was important that they not be separated, not for anything. He looked back at her stricken expression, her amber eyes huge and terrified, and knew it was mirrored on his own face. It seemed as if the morning had passed in a different world, one with no walls or Titans, one many miles away.

When they finally squeezed back inside the Wall, they saw that the rider had collapsed. He lay in a heap in the middle of the street, his horse whickering nervously, surrounded by a crowd.

"He's dead!" someone shouted from the back.

"He's exhausted," Petra said. "He's probably been riding for days."

Auruo could only stare at her.

Three Garrison soldiers pushed their way through the crowd, and one knelt at the side of the bloodied rider, craning close to listen. But the bloodied rider did not mumble – he shot up, his eyes wide, shuddering from the force of whatever he'd seen and survived. "Close the gate!" he screamed. "They were right behind me! All the way from Shiganshina!"

_Right behind him?_ Auruo and Petra been out beyond Wall Rose and the horizon had been clear. It was sunny, warm – just like every other week. With a sick pang, Auruo realized he had not been in the proper state of mind to notice anything. They'd been screwing around, being stupid. Careless. He remembered her pinned beneath him as if it were something that happened many years ago to someone else.

"What is he-?" one of the Garrison soldiers began, but the bloodied rider thrashed so badly the she did not finish her thought.

"_Close the gate or Karanese will be next_!"

The gathered crowd murmured nervously amongst themselves; the bloodied rider's state was worrisome, of course, but how could Titans have gotten through Wall Maria – fifty meters high and nigh unto impenetrable? But Auruo saw horror in the man's face that only truth could inspire. This was no affected raving of a madman. He groped for Petra's hand again, gripping it tightly and pulling her behind him. Her fingers were ice cold.

"Look," she whispered, pointing to the top of the Wall. He had to squint to see: Garrison soldiers, scurrying in panic, one with his arms windmilling as he signaled to the others. He heard their voices echoing down the Wall, too indistinct to make out the words. Then: the gate shuddering as it slowly lowered into place.

Panicked sounds from the villagers on the wrong side of the Wall. Panic in the crowd. The bloodied rider watched the gate descend with feral relief before he keeled right over, sprawling on the cobbled streets and shuddering once before going completely still.

"They're not even going to evacuate -?!" Petra breathed.

"Not if there's a Titan in sight," Auruo said in a horrible, dead voice.

She had gone bone white. "But what difference will lowering the gate make, if they were able to get through Wall Maria?"

He didn't know. He didn't know anything. If there were Titans about to break through the Wall, they should run – but run where? If they fled further into the interior, what was to stop the Titans from breaking through Rose? And Sina? He slowly realized it might not matter that they'd gotten back to Karanese before the gates had closed. They could die today just as easily.

He grew cold. In his mind, a wall shuddered into place.

It was as if the crowd realized this at the same instant. Some screamed and ran for their homes and families. Others stood transfixed, watching the Wall with horror that went beyond words. They could all hear the advancing Titans, now; heavy footfalls, houses being smashed to rubble, and the blood-curdling screams of their victims.

The Garrison soldier shook the bloodied rider's shoulder desperately, her lips white. "How?!" she cried. "How were they able to break through Maria?!"

The rider's head lolled, his lids fluttering. "A massive Titan …" he rasped. "Broke the gate. Another … smashed through the inner wall."

"And did you see them after?!"

The rider shook his head. "I was ordered to … warn Karanese."

The Garrison soldiers said no more; they sprinted full tilt toward the Wall, leaving the bloodied rider where he'd collapsed in the middle of the street. And the panic rose like a cresting wave, dragging them all below the surface. He heard someone sobbing behind him, heard people calling to their families, running for home. He felt Petra's cold hand in his, felt it shaking hard enough that his arm shook too. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. He'd been able to see for miles.

It was the longest hour of his life, and he was only able to process it through vague flashes of sensory input. Watching soldiers man the Wall, employing gear and tactics they hadn't had to use since training. People standing stupid and watching, waiting, hardly daring to breathe. Odd stretches of silence, punctuated by screaming on the wrong side of Rose. He thought he could heard the blood spilling and bones breaking when one awful scream would be cut short, but logically he knew that was impossible. Logically, theoretically. What use was any of it now?

"Auruo," Petra said, her voice raw. She sounded close. He could no longer feel her hand. "Let's go."

He felt her tugging on his arm. He looked at her blankly.

"Come on," she urged, and he noticed that her voice was shaking. "I don't think they're coming through."

He processed this very slowly. He didn't know how much time had passed since they'd squeezed back into Karanese. The screams on the other side of the Wall had died out. The soldiers no longer seemed panicked but vigilant. He acknowledged these facts as if through a fog, and on its heels was the subsequent realization that whatever had broken through Maria might not be coming for them. This did not inspire hope in him. He felt nothing.

Petra led him through the alleys toward their neighborhood, and he watched her auburn braid bouncing between her shoulders, oddly hypnotized by the motion. She wasn't dead. He could feel her shaking. Why wasn't he shaking? Why couldn't he feel anything?

Out of the sight of the sun, Petra slowed, her fingers dragging against the side of a building until he saw blood at her fingertips. She pressed one shaking fist to her mouth and sank to her knees. He heard a broken sob, and realized a moment later that it had come from her. Dumbly, he knelt beside her because it seemed appropriate.

"All those p-people," she sobbed, her hands quivering against her mouth. "G-god. And w-we could hear them scream the whole time."

Yes. That was true. Not just abstract people, but people he'd known all his life. People he'd greeted this morning. In the gut of a Titan, or crushed in debris. Something vicious and dark curled in the back of his mind, scratching against the walls that had come down. His vision shimmered.

"And if – if we hadn't –" Her sobbing grew louder, accompanied by strange gasping. Oh – she was hyperventilating. He mechanically rubbed her back.

"Right," he said in that horrible, dead voice.

"If we'd stayed out all day, we'd be dead," she gasped. "You'd be dead. _You'd be dead."_

Yes, he'd be dead. Slowly the statement took another shape in his mind: if they'd stayed out all day, _she'd _be dead. Likely he would have had to watch her die. Petra, dead – eaten or crushed or ripped apart. The essence would disappear, and not even the shell would remain. That vicious presence in the back of his mind reared, scratching red lines, howling.

"What's wrong with you?!" she shouted at him. "Say something!"

The walls were gone. His stomach boiled over, and he vomited at her feet.

* * *

Auruo's parents found them first. Mrs. Bossard rushed forward and folded a nearly catatonic Auruo in her arms, sobbing on his shoulder. "When we heard, w-we thought you'd been - because you're always by the river on Sundays, and – w-we thought –" She trailed off, holding him so tightly that Petra thought he might not be able to breathe, but his only reaction was to slowly pat her on the back. His gaze was very far away.

"And you too–" Mrs. Bossard said, gripping her hand tightly. Petra had never wanted to be more like Auruo's mother than in this moment, whose reaction to trauma was completely acceptable, understandable, and even, in a way, noble.

Her father found them next. He didn't say anything at first; he could only grip her tightly by the shoulders, his hands shaking so badly that she shook with him. His eyes were red, raw. "You're okay," he said. "Thank God."

She swallowed an angry retort that bubbled up in her from nothing. _What does God have to do with it? What does God have to do with anything? _

Their parents attempted to corral them off to their respective corners, but Petra dug her heels into the ground. "I want to stay together," she said loudly. She didn't care how it sounded, how it would seem to their parents, or even how it would seem to Auruo; the last thing she wanted to do today was let him out of her sight.

Mrs. Bossard sniffed, squeezing her hand again. "Of c-course, sweetheart," she said. "You're both welcome."

Her father did not look especially pleased about this, but he followed without a word. They made their way through the nearly empty streets before piling into the Bossard's tiny kitchen. There were not enough spaces at the table for them all to sit, so Auruo's brothers heaped around his feet, clinging to his legs, and his mother contented herself with striking a cooking fire and throwing ingredients in a worn pot. Petra saw that her hands shook.

"Did you see anything?" Mr. Bossard.

Auruo said nothing so Petra answered for them. "We were walking back when we saw the messenger from Shiganshina. He – he told us to get back inside."

"Did he tell you what he'd seen?"

Petra remembered the rider and the distant way he'd looked through them all, as if nothing smaller than the size of a Titan could capture his attention. "He'd seen Titans," she whispered. "Strange ones – tall and strong enough to break through the walls."

There was a clatter at the woodstove. Auruo's mother had dropped a spoon. "Don't worry, don't worry," she said, hands fluttering. "I'm sorry."

"Let me help you, Mrs. Bossard," Petra said, half rising from her seat.

"Don't worry, sweetheart."

But Petra stood and joined her at the stove. She gave Petra a grateful smile before resuming her ministrations.

As the day wore on, panic gave way to harrowed vigilance; people stayed in their homes, faces pressed to the windows, watching as soldiers ran through the streets. Slowly word circulated, picked from snippets overheard from the military, that whatever had destroyed Shiganshina was not coming for them. The Titans on the wrong side of the Wall were the normal kind; man eating abominations unable to breach their only protection.

Their parents conferred in low voices well into the evening, as if they feared speaking loudly would summon the wrath of Shiganshina's ruin on them. Petra initially worried that her father's dislike of Auruo would prejudice him against Auruo's parents, who were two of the sweetest people she'd ever known in her life, but that fear came to nothing; they spoke intently, not quite friends yet, but people who had been brought together by calamity and their children.

Petra watched Auruo, making no show of her scrutiny. He sat stiffly, his hands clenched on his knees. He'd hardly said a word since this morning, and in some base corner of her heart she worried that he was broken, that he'd never say anything again, and she'd spend the rest of her life trying to bring him back. Only when he noticed her did his distant stare focus on her face. His brows furrowed over pitted eyes, and she saw his Adam's apple bob in his throat. She was once again overcome with the visceral need to hold him. Before, she hadn't thought anything of these impulses, but after this morning in the field, they'd become upsetting and worrisome, dangerous.

_How can you even think of that? _she thought, sick at herself. _People died today. We could have died today. _

But it wasn't like the world had ended, not completely anyway. She was still alive, and so was he, and so were their families. Elsewhere in their shrinking world, there were people who had not been that lucky. And that evening in the Bossard kitchen, she decided that she wasn't going to stop living, turn her life into a walking statement of grief and regret. She would do something, she would do everything. She would remember, and fight. It was all she could do.

For her, it was that simple.

"Wonder if they'll open the mills tomorrow," Mr. Bossard said wearily. "Wonder if things will have calmed down long enough to get some work done."

"I don't see why they wouldn't," Mrs. Bossard said, nursing a cup of coffee that had long since gone cold. "You could bring Auruo with you, see if the foreman will give him his old job back—"

"_No."_

It took Petra a second to realize that it was Auruo who had spoken, and in a voice as sharp as a razor. Everyone in the room stared at him, as if they'd forgotten that he knew how to speak.

"Auruo, sweetheart," his mother began, placating.

"No. If you think anything has changed, you don't know me at all."

"Don't speak that way to your mother," Mr. Bossard said quietly.

"Auruo, you can't still be considering the army after today!" Mrs. Bossard cried. "Now that Maria has fallen –"

Auruo surged to his feet, and Petra saw that his hands had clenched into trembling fists. "Exactly," he hissed. "Wall Maria might as well not even be there anymore. The only thing keeping you from getting your head crushed by a bunch of Titans is Rose, and we all learned today how easily the walls can be broken."

"Auruo –"

"But you want me to sit around at home and work at the steel mill knowing full well that just outside the Wall are Titans, and they're this close to eating you all. You want me to sit on my ass and be okay with that because it'll make you feel a little better right now, because it's easier than having to consider it's _necessary _for people do to what they can, while they can."

Mrs. Bossard was close to tears. "Auruo …"

Auruo continued over her, his voice shaking. "Tomorrow I'm enlisting. In three years, I'm joining the Survey Corps. And the next time something like this happens, I'm not going to just stand there watching people I care about die, and waiting to die myself … I'll – I'll be able to do something about it! I'll be able to protect the people I love. And if you care about me, _you won't stop me from doing that!_"

He lurched forward and stormed out of the kitchen, and a half second later the door banged shut behind him. No one spoke or made a sound, not even Auruo's brothers – they all were indicted by the fury of his declaration, the degree to which he would sacrifice himself for their sake. Without being consciously aware of doing so, Petra got to her feet and followed him outside.

She found him hunched on the stoop, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes and biting his lip with violence she'd never seen from him before. When she lightly touched his shoulder, he flinched away from her.

"Don't," he said thickly.

"Why?"

He shook his head, and she noticed that he was shaking. "Not exactly at my best right now," he mumbled.

"I think that ship has sailed," she said gently. "It's not like I've never seen you upset before."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it."

She scooted closer, laying her hand on his shoulder once again, and this time he did not flinch away. "Why are you so upset?"

"Besides the obvious reasons?"

"Of course." She tried to smile. "I don't ask questions that have obvious answers, remember?"

He took a trembling breath and lowered his hands, and she saw that his eyes were red. He swallowed hard. "I – I can't –"

"You don't have to tell me," she said, and she drew away, trying not to feel hurt.

He shook his head, looking at her with such an absence of guile that it took her breath away. "That's not what I meant," he said, quiet. "I mean … my brothers live here, you know? My parents. Say that whatever broke open Maria got through Rose too – there isn't any coming back from that. I'll wager any money I have that only a handful were able to get out of Shiganshina, and I'm supposed to play those odds with my own family? With – with _you? _I – I can't do it." He trailed off, his hands clenching into anguished fists again. "_I won't do it."_

She knew Auruo possessed intensity that easily matched her own, but he spent so much time downplaying it or dressing it in sarcasm that she could almost forget it was there. But in that instant she could see him as clearly as she ever had. She saw that he would put himself in the path of a thousand Titans for those he loved, and that he loved them with more devotion than most people ever knew. She saw him as he saw himself; a barrier between the Titans and his family, with twin swords in his hands, soaring faster than the eye could follow. A brave streak of green against the blue sky.

Slowly, she understood that he'd included her in his dedication; he refused to play the odds with her life as well. She waited for him to blush at having admitted something so personal, but instead he stared into the darkened streets, the line of his jaw bowstring tight. She was pinned beneath him again, looking up at his face and struggling to make her heart beat right, but this was a different sort of capture; a slower, more deliberate surrender. She could not fight it off or break free; she could only sit beside him and let it overtake her, this realization that made the air hard to breathe, that made her body feel too small for the multitudes it suddenly contained.

He took a steadying breath. "And maybe joining the Survey Corps isn't going to do jack shit, but you know what? It's better than doing nothing. They're the ones trying to figure out how to stop the Titans for good. And … I want to be a part of that."

"I agree," she said softly. "With all of it."

He looked almost like the old Auruo in that moment; relief had lit him from within. "I knew you would."

They sat in relative silence for a long time, watching as the sun set and the sky faded into a thousand colors before giving way to deep night. There were more stars tonight than she'd ever seen in her life. She existed in an odd, halfway state; filled with too many extremes to properly acknowledge. She was exhausted and heart sore, harrowed and overwhelmed, driven by purpose. She was preternaturally aware of the boy sitting next to her, the boy who was no longer a boy, and who had grown up without her even noticing. She remembered the morning as it had happened many sunlight years ago, and remembered Auruo as he had been at that moment; laughing so hard he couldn't breathe, singing in French, smiling up at her when he thought she wouldn't notice.

She thought of the next day, when they would go to the Garrison and enlist, where they would do so together because a long time ago they had agreed ago to look out for one another.

"Tomorrow," she told him; a reminder and a promise mingled.

"Tomorrow," he agreed; a promise returned.

-End of Part 1-

_5 years left_


	7. Chapter 7

**_AN: Thanks to Seacilin O hIonggardail and Reach for the Sky for your reviews!_**

_-Part 2: Tin Soldiers-_

They left for training on an overcast morning, three days after Auruo's disastrous sixteenth birthday. Clutching suitcases filled with all their few possessions, they filed into the horse-drawn cart that would carry them and the other recruits from Karanese to the training camp. Beside him, Petra wiped her nose and sat ramrod straight, her fists bunched in her lap. They did not speak, but Auruo could tell from her eyes that saying goodbye to her father had been painful.

His mother and brothers cried when the cart jolted forward, and Benoit ran alongside until they passed through the inner gate. Auruo waved once, but he did not take his eyes off his family until they became diffuse blurs on the horizon, and he could no longer see them. He swallowed the hard lump in his throat and turned away.

They shared the cart with only ten other people. The recruiter had not bothered to hide his disappointment in the fact that Karanese only had twelve able bodied people of recruitment age willing to volunteer. Auruo wasn't surprised with the turnout; in fact, he'd expected even fewer. He spent the first few hours of the journey studying his new comrades; most were people he'd seen on the streets but never spoken to. He recognized one twelve-year old boy who had lived in the village outside the walls; after getting a good look at the boy's fraught expression, Auruo realized with a pang that how he came to be in this cart probably wasn't that much of a mystery.

Midday they stopped to water the horses and stretch their legs. He and Petra sat under the shade of an oak tree and shared their lunches; Auruo's mother had packed some pieces of cake leftover from his birthday and Petra had brought bread with some tart cheese and apples. He watched as she ate, worrying a piece of crust between her fingers.

"You look tired," he said.

"Haven't been sleeping so well," she admitted, her shoulders drooping as she sighed.

He'd known this – known it when she came by every night in those last days before they were scheduled to leave, forced out of what little sleep she could manage by a nightmare and shaking so badly that nothing could calm her. He would reach for her, then hesitate. It was a strange place they found themselves now; needing something as simple as a touch for comfort, yet being wary of it at the same time.

"You know, they'll probably work us so hard in training that we won't have trouble sleeping ever again," he said, grinning.

She tried to smile, but it was a stiff gesture – her heart wasn't in it. "Let's hope."

"Oi! You lot!" the driver called. "We're leaving!"

In the afternoon the clouds returned and the air grew unseasonably cold. It was even more so for them as they sat in the back of the cart, well away from the rest of the recruits. Petra wrapped her arms around herself, and he saw a flash of unhappiness in her eyes. He had reached a point in his regard for her that what she felt affected him in equal measure. He shrugged out of his threadbare coat and passed it to her without a word, and she wrapped it around herself gratefully.

He watched her as the cart rumbled on, jostling them over the uneven roads. She was exhausted and heartsore. She had nightmares, just as he did. She was stubborn and resolute, but that did not preclude her from missing her father or their home. And more than anything, he wanted to cheer her up before they were thrown into the crucible of training, in this one final moment where it was only the two of them.

With a steadying breath, he set aside his embarrassment and began to hum the tune he knew she liked best, low enough that only she could hear. And almost instantly, she looked up at him and beamed, so brightly it was as if nothing awful had happened, and nothing awful would ever happen again. He rolled his eyes but did not stop humming; he concentrated on the complex melody, pitching every note exactly right.

She sighed. Every muscle in her body seemed to disengage as she relaxed, coming apart with the song. She let her head drop, nestling it on his shoulder. And even then he did not stop, though it felt as if his heart no longer knew how to beat properly. He thought about holding her hand, or pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth – how her skin would feel, how it would taste. He thought about sweeping aside the lock of hair that had come loose from her braid, his fingers brushing her cheekbones.

Instead he sang:

_"Il y a longtemps que je t'aime__  
Jamais, jamais je ne t'oublierai."_

And she smiled. "What does it mean?"

"It means go to sleep."

"Hm …"

In less than a minute she was asleep, curled up against him as she had so many times before her touch lit a fire in him. He had lied to her. He was not brave enough to share his truth, this most essential truth; he did not have the strength to put everything at her mercy, to have her see it naked as day, and trust that she would not reject it all outright.

So he would bear this truth quietly, and he wouldn't complain.

They arrived at the training camp just after sundown. Auruo expected them to be fitted for uniforms first but instead they were split from the girls and corralled toward a group of large barracks. He watched Petra go in the opposite direction with the rest of the girls, and before she disappeared she waved over her shoulder and flashed him a grin. He returned the gesture, though with less enthusiasm. In an odd way, he felt like it'd be many years before he saw her again.

Frowning, he turned and followed his classmates to the barracks. _Pathetic, co-dependent, needy, stupidstupidstupid, _he cursed himself. _If you spend all three years here mooning and moping when you're apart, you really will be a worthless piece of shit._ When this failed to motivate him, he shoved his hands in his pockets and arranged his features into his most off-putting scowl.

He was not looking forward to this part of training; mingling with strangers his age and watching the hierarchies form. He had a lot of experience with the establishment of pecking order, and it was not to his taste. All his life he'd existed on the bottom, getting his face rearranged on a weekly basis, and the last thing he'd do was let that happen here. He decided his best strategy was to be as unapproachable as possible.

The officer corralled the older boys into one of the smaller barracks and regarded them sternly from the doorway. "Get settled," he told them. "In the morning, you get your uniforms. Training begins in the afternoon." He left them without another word.

Auruo quickly claimed the top bunk of the bed closest to the door, the better to watch his new classmates. Most of them had already struck up conversation amongst themselves as they claimed beds of their own, and at the center of the commotion were two of the largest guys Auruo had ever seen in his life; one consciously handsome, the other sharp-featured and dangerous. The handsome one talked in a loud, confident voice, like he thought he was doing the world some big favor by making his thoughts as easily accessible as possible.

"Um … excuse me?"

Auruo peered over the side of the bed. A boy with dark hair and pinched features stood there, his gaze shifting to Auruo's face and away, as if afraid he'd be abused in some fashion. He had a worn pack slung over his narrow shoulder, and in his left hand was a battered violin case. "Could I take the bottom bunk?" he asked, staring at his feet.

All thoughts of the hierarchy left Auruo's mind at that moment; he longer cared that allying with someone so obviously weak and scared would do nothing for him, and might in fact make himself a bigger target. All he could think was that the boy looked as scared and exhausted as he was trying not to feel himself, and pity overwhelmed him. "Sure," he said, shrugging. "I don't care."

The boy brightened. "Thanks," he said. "Um … I'm Martin Klossner."

Auruo held out his hand, and Martin shook it tentatively. "Auruo Bossard. Don't make too much noise and we'll get along fine."

Martin's face fell. "O-oh, well …"

"That's a joke," Auruo said, arching a brow.

"Oh, right! Ha ha."

Martin chose that moment to make a strategic retreat, disappearing under his bunk and unpacking his belongings. Wincing, Auruo lay back and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was a total idiot with people. He got along with Petra so well because she understood him and had since the first day they'd met. For her, it was effortless, not because he was easy to understand but because she was just better than most people at putting up with his crappy personality. She didn't get offended at the dumb things he said (not for long anyway) and wasn't put off by his moods (or at least, she knew how to take them in stride). And most surprisingly of all, she brought out the best in him. He wasn't even sure how, but she did.

It was with Petra's example in mind that inspired Auruo to make a better effort with his new bunkmate. He eyed the violin case at the side of Martin's bed. "You play?"

Martin looked up from the notebook he'd been scribbling in. "Oh – yes. A little."

"Are you any good?"

"No, not really," said Martin – modestly, Auruo thought. Probably not in the habit of boasting. "Not as good as my father."

Auruo leaned on the side of his bed and peered down into Martin's preoccupied face. "So you learned from him, then?"

"Yes, that's right."

"I have to admit, I'm a little jealous," said Auruo, grinning. "I'd always wanted to play an instrument."

Martin tilted his head. "Why couldn't you?"

"Only rich people have instruments," Auruo said, and he shrugged. "I used to walk by the governor's back home because you could see they had a real, actual piano. Not like those tinny clavichords but a real grand – probably made behind Sina and shipped out special. They never even played it, either; just let it sit in their drawing room, right next to the window so people could look at it and know how rich they were. Never had to worry about it getting stolen either, because it's like – if the governor's fancy piano got stolen, the Garrison would be all over it. And not many places you can hide a real piano that no one ever plays."

"Seems wasteful," Martin said quietly.

"You're damn right it's wasteful," Auruo said. "Ah, well. They do what they want, and fuck the rest."

Going by his expression, Auruo figured Martin wasn't really accustomed to colorful language. Or cynicism. He swallowed and chose a different tack. "How'd you come by that violin anyway? If you don't mind me asking."

And to his relief, Martin brightened again. "No, I don't mind. My father made it."

"No shit?"

"Yes, shit," Martin said, and for the first time he actually smiled; it transformed his pinched, fearful face into something a little more human.

"Ha—was that a joke?"

"Yes."

Auruo snorted. "Maybe there's hope for you after all."

Martin bit his lip, clearly satisfied. "Anyway. My father made it. He's come down from a long line of luthiers, since before the Walls, he says. And there isn't much use for a luthier where we are now, so we're farmers. But we live on the edge of the forest – on the western edge of Rose? The wood there is prime for violins, especially when you treat it right."

Auruo watched as he spoke – gesturing widely, his hands echoing the effort required to turn a tree into something as complex and beautiful as a violin. "He ever teach you any of it?"

"Yes. As much as I could learn," Martin said, and he grew quiet –a sensitive subject? Auruo frowned. "And … well, I don't expect I'll be able to play much here. But I couldn't bring myself to leave it behind."

"You'd be surprised," Auruo said, dropping down and digging through his suitcase for a clean shirt. "I'd wager things'll get pretty boring during free hours. Everyone'll be begging you to fill it up with some music."

"Maybe," Martin allowed, doodling loops and curls in the margins of his notebook. Auruo could tell that he didn't really believe this but was too polite to say so outright. Being that Auruo was a person who usually said what he thought in as graceless a manner as possible, he could respect the skill involved in keeping quiet.

He'd been about to pull himself back up into his bunk when the massive boy from earlier swaggered up to him. "Hey, Auruo, right?" he said, with what he clearly thought was a winning smile.

"Yeah," Auruo said, wary.

"I'm Axel Leitz. It's great to meet you." Weirdly, he sounded as if he actually meant that. He leaned against the bunk, bracing himself with one meaty arm. "You came in with the group from Karanese, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"Ah, you were lucky then. It took us four days to get here. Me and Oskar, I mean." He indicated the other massive boy, currently glowering at them from across the room. "That's longer than anyone wants to spend in a cart, believe me."

"Where the hell would you have to come from for it to take that long?"

"Some nothing village on the north side of Rose," Axel said. "You know the kind … or do you?"

Auruo didn't, as he'd lived in a city his whole life. He shrugged.

Axel grinned self-deprecatingly. "Well, think endless fields, lots of cows, maybe a dozen houses and a tavern. Everybody nose deep in everybody else's business. Meddling neighbors that think 'cause they know you so well they get a say in what you do with your own life. And they all cry when you leave. Home sweet home."

"Sounds pretty lousy to me," Auruo said.

Martin stared wide-eyed from his bunk, as if he couldn't imagine ever saying something so rude to a stranger. Axel, for his part, took it in stride. "Ah, well. We don't get to choose where we come from. But if we're lucky, we can choose where we go."

It was an oddly philosophical thing to come from someone Auruo had assumed was stupid and dull. "That's one way of looking at it," he said, uncomfortable. "Anyway. Nice to meet you, or whatever."

"Hey – before I forget. You're the one that came in with that pretty redhead, right?" Axel shot him a conspiratorial grin. "Sleeping on your shoulder, all close-like."

_Ah_. And now he came to what he actually wanted. "Yeah," Auruo said, frowning. If this was going where he thought it was going –

Axel's grin widened. "So are you with that, or am I free to pursue matters?"

At least a dozen furious thoughts shot through Auruo's mind at the speed of light: _she's a SHE, not a THAT! If you so much as look at her I'll break your stupid handsome face! Petra'd chew you up and spit you out, so good fucking luck! _He mastered the urge to punch this idiotic barrelhouse of a boy only through great personal effort; he didn't care that would be ill-advised and potentially fatal, because Axel was much bigger and stronger than him. "If you're at all interested in getting off on the right foot with me," he snapped, clenched fists shaking, "you're gonna want to drop that whole line of thought."

Axel held up his hands. "Easy, friend. No harm meant."

Auruo hoisted himself back up into his bunk. "Good."

The idiot named Axel shuffled back to his corner with a genuinely affronted expression, like he really thought he was being friendly and considerate by asking if 'that pretty redhead' belonged to Auruo or something. Like asking made it less stupid and offensive!

Auruo turned over and scowled, punching his pillow into a more comfortable shape. It was a bullshit question, but its core was something he'd had to contend with ever since he found himself inexplicably attracted to his best friend. He was relieved, if not exactly pleased, that he'd been able to avoid answering while still making his position on the subject abundantly clear.

* * *

Petra surveyed the barracks that would be her home for the next three years with a sinking feeling, watching her new roommates talking and laughing amongst themselves. There were a few loners in the corners, but almost everyone gravitated toward an achingly gorgeous girl holding court in the center of the room, currently laughing and tossing her vivid yellow hair, making it shimmer in the low light. It seemed to Petra as if most of them had already formed connections, and once again she was the weirdo on the outside. With a determined little huff, she forced herself to cross the threshold. She was _not _going to waste time feeling awkward or sorry for herself.

"Hey," said a voice to her right. "You look a little lost."

Petra turned, swallowing her dismay; half a second inside and already someone had figured her out. That someone was reclined easily on the top bunk; arms crossed under her head, legs crossed at the knee, foot bouncing in time with some internal compulsion. She had lovely tanned skin, a shock of white-blonde hair cropped short and sleek against her head, and the deepest blue eyes Petra had ever seen on a person. Her features were a little big for her face, and they culminated to a clever mien, as though she saw and heard more than the average person. She gave Petra a slow smile. "Don't look so lost, huh? You can bunk here."

"Really?!"

The girl shrugged. "Yeah, sure. It'll be my good deed for the day."

"Thank you," Petra said, rushing to the bunk and flopping down flat on her back, relief a nearly physical sensation thrumming in her limbs, and so potent she felt dizzy with it.

"Don't mention it. If I hadn't intervened you might have bunked on the other side of the room, and let me tell you those girls would eat a sweet thing like you alive."

Petra frowned; she did not like being coddled. "Maybe I'm not sweet at all."

The strange girl swung down from her bunk and plopped onto Petra's bed, crossing her legs and leaning forward to get a closer look. "Oh, you are. I can tell."

Petra sat up too, a little taken aback – she didn't even know the girl's name and already she was barging into her space uninvited. "How's that?"

"You have a very open face," said the strange girl, cocking her head. "Big eyes, you know. Mean people squint. Like this, see?" She pointed to her eyes, which she'd narrowed coolly.

Petra thought of Auruo and his vast array of squinty-eyed scowling expressions, how sometimes when he looked at her or laughed his affected irritation would fade, and he'd be left looking as open as she knew he really was. "I guess I never thought of it that way," she allowed. "So you're saying you're a mean person?"

"Oh, I am. Unequivocally."

"Then why worry about good deeds?"

The girl flashed Petra a quicksilver grin. "Well, I'm not a complete monster. You can relax, by the way. I'm not going to eat you." Her smirk widened, as if she enjoyed some personal joke. "My name's Wil Althaus."

"Petra Ral."

"Nice to meet you," said Wil. "And I do mean that."

Somehow, Petra could tell that she really did.

"So, Petra Ral," Wil said, leaning against the bedpost. "What's your story?"

"Are we exchanging life stories now?"

"Sure, why not? Unless you'd rather I leave you alone."

Oddly, she didn't; there was something likeable about Wil. Perhaps it was her insistence that she was not a good person, despite her actions to the contrary – quite a lot like another person Petra knew and unilaterally adored. "No, it's all right," she said, and she couldn't help smiling. "Though this means you have to tell me your life story too."

"Does it, now?"

Petra nodded firmly. "I'm not interested in an uneven exchange."

"Well, we wouldn't want that, would we?" Another quicksilver grin. "You first."

Petra played with a loose thread from the hem of her skirt and shrugged. "Maybe it is uneven. My story isn't that interesting."

"I'll be the judge of that. Come on, out with it."

Petra sighed. "I'm fifteen. I came here from Karanese with my best friend."

Wil's grin faded. "Karanese, huh? So everything went to shit when the Titans got to your part of the Rose."

"Yeah," Petra said, biting her lip.

Wil gestured dismissively. "Forget I asked. Why'd you enlist so late with your friend?"

Petra smiled gratefully for the change in subject. "Because he had to convince his parents to let him join, and in the end he pretty much decided he was going to do this without their blessing anyway. As for me, my dad wasn't really happy about it either, but he doesn't try to tell me what to do with my life because he knows it doesn't work." She twisted the loose thread around her finger. "And before you say anything, I know I didn't have to wait for him – my friend, I mean – but … I don't know. We promised we'd look out for each other." She fell silent, inexplicably embarrassed. "Is that dumb to admit?"

"No, I don't think so," Wil said. "It's nice. It's the kind of thing sweet people do."

Petra giggled. "He'd get so mad if he heard you say that."

"What, that he's sweet?!" Wil smirked. "I guess I'd get mad if someone said that about me too."

"Yeah, you know? This'll be interesting. From what I can guess about you, and from everything I know about him, you're either going to hate each other or get along famously. There will be no middle ground."

"I could probably tell you for sure if you told me about him," Wil said. "I'm pretty particular about the people I deign to interact with."

"Are you? You talked to me quick enough."

"I sure did. And do you see me chatting with any of our other esteemed comrades?"

"Ha. I guess not."

"Right. So tell me about this great friend of yours, since you seem more interested in talking about him than talking about yourself."

Petra flushed. "It's not like that."

"Hm," Wil said, her expression speculative. "Go on, then."

_Where to even start? _Petra considered the parts that made the sum; how he was simultaneously irascible and yet tender, boastful yet insecure, how he often blurted the first thing that came to mind yet managed to be extraordinarily thoughtful when it mattered. She thought of the many times they'd fought, and the many times he'd put himself in an uncomfortable position to make her smile, how he was both fueled and embarrassed by attention. How he'd managed to become such an inextricable part of her life, with so little effort.

_The muscles in his forearms, the way light catches in his eyes. Narrow hipped, wide shouldered. Strong, safe. The feel of him above me. _

Swallowing nervously, she decided to give the abridged description – no sense in making her odd fascination widely known. "Well, firstly he's a bit of a hothead," she said finally. "I'll be surprised if he doesn't get in a fight with someone tonight. He's the kind of person who leaps before he looks. He's easily embarrassed, easy to fluster. He's frequently grumpy. He'll always be there for you, though. He's so funny when he wants to be."

"Hm," said Wil, brows furrowed.

Petra huffed. "I'm not explaining him right. Let me give you an example. So last year I got really sick for the first time in my life. It wasn't anything life-threatening, just inconvenient. I couldn't work or do anything for a few weeks, because I was confined to bed. Which was torture for me. I like being able to move around, do things. It was completely miserable."

"Right, of course."

"But Auruo came over every single night, even though he worked at the steel mill and was always so tired after he got off a shift. His brothers would draw me pictures and his mom would make me soup even though they never had much to spare, and he'd bring them over every night, along with other little things that made it less awful and boring."

"Little things like …?"

Petra hesitated, because Auruo had done something truly selfless for her in those awful weeks, and she knew he'd be mortified that this perfect stranger knew he was capable of something so good. "He was just there. He ended up getting sick too, but for all his grumping he never blamed me, though it was technically my fault." She smiled, remembering his speckled face glowering up at her through the window before his expression softened.

Wil covered her mouth with one hand. "Oh, god."

"What?!"

She shook her head, and Petra saw she fought valiantly against a grin. "Nothing, nothing. I'm just … it's nothing! Stop looking at me, I'm going to laugh."

Petra frowned, hurt. "Are you laughing at him or me?"

"Neither! I swear to god! Shit, I'm going to break a rib."

"Do you need a minute?"

"No! No, no. I'm sorry. I look forward to meeting him and seeing this whole … thing play out in person."

"What _thing?!"_

"Nothing at all. Don't mind me. It's been a long cart ride and I'm a pretty tired. You know."

But something in her expression gave Petra pause – like she was in on some private joke, or knew something no one else did. She _knew_, of course. She knew because it was obvious, because Petra was obvious about it, because everything she thought and did had become booming confirmation to the world at large. Fantastic.

"I know you don't have any reason to do this, seeing as we've only just met," Petra said, twisting the loose thread around her index finger so tightly that it hurt. "But please do me a favor and pretend you didn't just figure out what I know you did."

Wil shrugged. "If you want. Don't get used to asking for this kind of stuff, though. I do only one good deed a day, and already you're asking me for two."

"I won't," Petra mumbled.

"Hey," said Wil, craning closer and tilting Petra's chin up to meet her eyes. "You know it's kind of adorable, right? Like I'm not one for adorable, but it works on you."

"It's inconvenient," Petra said, yanking at the loose thread. "And confusing."

"Well, sure. It'll pretty much always be like that."

"Wonderful." Petra frowned up at her. "How do you know, anyway? It could just … stop being inconvenient and weird. Maybe it'll just go away and things will go back to normal."

Wil hummed thoughtfully, crossing her ankles. "Maybe. Probably not."

"How would you know?!"

"I'm a very worldly person," she said with a sly grin. "I know many things."

"Really. Like what."

Petra had not yet learned never to challenge Wil on these matters. She leaned close, tucking a loose strand of white blonde hair behind her ears, her sly grin achieving downright diabolical intensity. "Did you know a guy's lips are almost always the same color as the head?"

"The head of what?"

Wil gaped at her. "Are you serious?"

"Am I serious what? I don't know what you mean!"

"Shh! Keep your voice down." Wil leaned closer, until they were only a breath apart. "The head of his cock!" she hissed delightedly in Petra's ear.

_Oh my god?! _Heat rushed to her face, and she absently pressed her hands to her cheeks. "How do you know?" she whispered, light-headed.

"Like I said," Wil grinned. "I'm very worldly. I have firsthand experience."

"Oh my god."

"Oh my god is right," Wil said, grinning like her birthday had come early. "You look like you're going to pass out."

"_Why would you tell me that?"_ Petra squeaked. "It's all I'll be able to think about when I see anyone!" _Especially him! _

"Man, I thought you might be pure, but I had no idea you were _that _pure."

"And you're the opposite!"

"Yes," Wil said, satisfied. "Yes, I am."

"Oh my god."

"Hey, come on. Calm down." She patted Petra reassuringly on the back. "It's a fact of life, and we just have to cope with it."

"There is no coping with this," Petra said. "I'll never be able to look at him again without dying of embarrassment."

"I highly doubt that," Wil said kindly. "It'll just be weird at first."

"Things are already weird enough," Petra moaned, burying her face in her hands. "Ever since …"

Will scooted closer, titillated by the prospect of drama. "Ever since _what?" _she whispered excitedly.

"Why are you so entertained by this?!"

"Because I came from a backwater little village full of boring people I've known my whole life. Slept with boys, slept with girls." She sighed artfully. "Got bored."

She made herself sound so experienced, and suddenly Petra felt very childish in comparison. "That many?" she whispered.

Wil seemed to reconsider. "Two boys, one girl," she clarified grudgingly. "And not at the same time. They got attached and I didn't. Not that I didn't care for them at all, it was just never what either of us wanted. But here you are; clearly full of this delicious drama and romance. Like _real romance. _I can tell." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "_You have to tell me everything!"_

Petra was quiet for a moment, parsing her awkward thoughts into orderly lines. Wil already had taken the shape of a friend in her life; less a stranger and more a font of support and, even more importantly, knowledge. "I can't even imagine what it'd be like to be interested in more than one person," she said finally, playing with the loose thread again. "Let alone sleep with more than one."

"Oh god, you lamb. I can't deal with this," Wil said, shaking her head. "Stick a fork in me."

"If you're going to make fun of me I just won't say anything," Petra snapped, feeling the familiar intensity burn at the back of her throat.

"No, no! I don't mean to," Wil said, placating. "It's just … you're so adorable. How don't you know anything? Like, I was never this innocent, not even when I actually _should _have been innocent."

Petra's temper disappeared, and she hugged her legs closer to her chest. "My mom died when I was eight," she said softly. "And Auruo's my only friend. I didn't have my mom or any girlfriends to talk to about … this."

Wil's grin vanished instantly. "_No one?"_

"No one."

"What did you do when you had your first bleed?!" Wil blurted, too upset to be circumspect.

Petra shook her head and buried her face in her knees. "I thought I was dying," she whispered. "I had no idea what was happening to me. Auruo's mom figured it out because I hadn't been around in days. She came over and explained things."

For just a moment, the squinty, smirking girl from before was gone, replaced by someone easily moved by plight. She quickly reassembled her affectation, but this time it was tempered by real concern. "Well, good news; I've decided I'm taking you under my wing," Wil said, blasé. "You clearly need it."

Petra couldn't help smiling. "You know that's three good deeds now, right?"

Wil sighed bravely. "Seems I might be moved to make an exception for you, every now and then. Don't get used to it. I'll probably change my mind in a few days."

"Right, right."

"So?" Wil said, pulling herself close and gripping Petra's crossed ankles. "You were going to tell me everything?"

"Was I?"

"Come on, lamb! Don't hold out on me now!"

Petra studied her, this girl who'd been so cool and remote earlier, so nonchalant as she'd offered a rescue, and yet it occurred to Petra that Wil might have been in need of rescue herself. That perhaps her affectations spoke to loneliness, and her experience was less uncaring and more a desperate effort to connect.

"All right," Petra said. "Just between us, then."

"You got it."

They spoke long into the night. Giggling to solemn, and back again like whiplash. They pulled Petra's covers around themselves and continued on in whispers, long after the candles were blown out. And when they finally crawled into their respective beds and nodded off to sleep in the dark early hours of morning, it was warm and dreamless.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Thanks to anais, Seryan Parks, ILove2Write13, and Reach for the Sky for your reviews! Your feedback is so important to me! **

That first night, Auruo dreamed of a crater where Karanese once was. Smoke rose from the ruined forge, and a foul wind tossed aside debris; scraps of cloth, burned planks of wood, rotten food. There were buildings with gaping holes, gouged out by massive fists. Piano keys scattered on the street like broken teeth. And bodies everywhere; legs crushed under debris, a flash of his brothers in a pile, his parents in halves, and a solitary hand he recognized as Petra's, slim fingers curling upward.

He woke drenched in cold sweat, a ragged gasp tearing out of him before he could stuff it down. It took him three heartbeats to realize where he was. It had only been a dream; his family was fine and Petra was whole, and he was curled into an unnatural shape in his bunk, twisted in thin blankets and trying not to scream.

Too harrowed to try and go back to sleep, he untangled himself and stared up at the dark ceiling, counting the multiples he knew and regulating his breathing until it grew slow and even. He listened to the birds that woke before sunrise, committing their calls to memory. By the time dawn light touched the windowsill, he thought he might even be able to mimic them.

Yet even then, he felt a sick knot in the pit of his stomach, one that he suspected wouldn't go away until he saw Petra for himself and received a letter or two from his family – until he had evidence that they were fine and this was only his subconscious torturing him.

He quickly dressed and followed his classmates out of the barracks into the cool morning. Early sunlight filtered through the fog that veiled the trees, softened the blunt landscape, crude buildings and towers; it was almost as if he had stepped into a dream, a place that was only half-conceived, still malleable. He had only ever seen the like on those Sundays when he and Petra woke early enough to see the haze shroud the landscape, the mist curling off their river. He would lie beside her and they would not speak, aware that the haziness of the morning would bleed to whatever words they exchanged, render them insubstantial, or shatter the reverential quiet. Instead, they would watch as the world slowly slid into focus.

He waited in the mess line for breakfast, hardly aware of Martin hovering behind him, an anxious shadow. He was buffeted by boisterous conversation, too loud this morning, too strident. He held out his bowl and watched with dismay as the cooks filled it with a grey mush –some kind of grain that had been boiled too long. The hard knot in his stomach clenched, that merciless block of nausea tormenting him just as badly as the nightmares had.

The two of them found a table in the back of the room, far enough away from the loudmouths that they could hear themselves think. Auruo poked at the mush in his bowl and tried to summon the fortitude necessary to take a bite. "Awful," he said glumly. "I mean, not like I was expecting anything fancy, seeing that there's a lot of mouths to feed around here. But I was expecting edible."

Martin hunched his shoulders. "I was as well."

Auruo snickered. "Doesn't it kind of look like snot? Like they just hocked up a vat of snot special for us."

"You are not making this easier."

Auruo watched as a glob of mush plopped from the spoon back into his bowl. "_Bon appétit_," he smirked.

"Why do you find this so funny?" Martin demanded, his pinched features scandalized. "You have to eat it too!"

"I don't have to do anything."

"Do you plan to starve yourself?"

"Nah," said Auruo. "A meal's a meal. I just like to complain."

"It seems so," Martin agreed. He took a tentative bite of his mush, somehow keeping a straight face as he chewed and swallowed. "It is not as bad as it looks," he pronounced.

"There's a ringing endorsement." But he took a bite too, and to his surprise Martin was right; it wasn't the worst thing he'd ever had in his life. (That dubious honor went to the month they'd halved wages at the mill, and he and his family had been forced to subsist on food merchants sold at the end of the day – burnt, stale bread and rancid mash.)

"You think they'll just serve us mush for all meals?" he asked after swallowing.

Martin poked at the contents of his bowl. "I hope not."

Auruo scowled at his breakfast. He was not the kind of person to reconsider his convictions just because the food was and probably would continue to be bad, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little homesick at that moment. Even when things were tight and food was scarce, his mother had managed to feed them well, and in ways that didn't make his stomach turn.

Swallowing his nausea, he scanned the mess line for Petra. It was pathetic, sure, and more than a little ridiculous, but he felt like he hadn't seen her in much longer than it had actually been. Not that he'd ever admit this bothered him. Not that he'd admit thinking it in the first place. But when he finally did pick her out of the line, it seemed as if some hard fist of anxiety in him loosened, and he could finally breathe.

He was so relieved that he didn't see the other girl leaning close and whispering in Petra's ear. He continued not to notice her because Petra giggled at whatever she'd said - her cheeks flushing, eyes bright, brushing a copper strand of hair that had pulled loose from her braid behind her ears – and he momentarily lost the power of critical thought. _God, she's pretty._

But then the other girl looked right at him, and he was forced to acknowledge her existence. She had white-blonde hair and a shrewd, clever face – one that instantly put him on guard. She stared at him bluntly, chin lifted and eyes narrowed, without bothering to curb her stare, and her lips curled into a knowing smile. She leaned close and whispered in Petra's ear again, this time without averting her gaze. He frowned at her. _Who the fuck are you? _

"Hey," he said when Petra approached him, bowls of steaming mush in her hand. "You're in time for the first crap breakfast of many."

"Ha …" she said, taking a hesitant seat across from him. She tried to smile, but it looked awkward, forced, and she refused to meet his eye, a delicate pink blush rising on her cheeks.

"You all right?" he asked before he could think better of it.

"Y-yes! I'm fine. Thank you."

He stared at her, arching a brow. In the years they'd known each other, she'd never offered such a polite reply to anything he'd said– she was always teasing him, nagging him, laughing with him, and bickering with him over nonsense. The night before, she had smiled at him and waved. Now she couldn't even look him in the eye?

He was an idiot, but he wasn't that much of an idiot. The only thing that had changed since last night was the appearance of this shrewd-faced girl at Petra's side, and he turned to her now. "Who are you?"

The girl flashed him a clever grin. "I'm Wil. Petra's bunkmate." Before he could introduce himself, she cut him off. "And you're Auruo. I've heard all about you."

He frowned at Petra. "Really."

"O-only good things!" Petra said to her bowl.

His frown deepened; he wasn't sure he liked that any better. And he definitely didn't like the implication that there were bad things to omit and she was doing him some big favor by leaving them out.

"Right," he said finally. "This is Martin."

"It is a pleasure," said Martin, and he gave an odd, formal bow.

Wil's grin acquired a predatory edge. "It sure is," she said as she leaned over her bowl, fingers draped artfully around the rim.

Auruo was hoping to have an ally against this weird stranger that had forced her way into his life, but instead Martin was inexplicably charmed by the overture; he blushed to the roots of his hair, staring down at the coagulated bits of mash in his bowl. "R-right," he managed.

Auruo gaped at him. _Has everyone lost their fucking minds?!_

He didn't have a chance to reply, because at that moment Axel and his counterpart sank in the last open seats at their table, the former beaming like he could think of nothing he wanted more in life than to join this unbearably awkward breakfast. "Morning, Boss. Martin."

"Don't call me that," Auruo said reflexively. "And what are you doing?"

Axel shoveled a bite of mash into his mouth and swallowed. "Saying good morning to my favorite new people. Eating this outstanding breakfast. Enjoying life." He turned to Petra, turning the charming grin up to its full luminosity. "Speaking of new people, what's your name?"

"Ah – it's Petra."

"Lovely name. And lovely to meet you." He grinned. "I'm Axel, this is Oskar. We're in the same barracks as Boss."

"_Don't call me that!" _

"Nice to meet you," Petra said, scrutinizing Axel for a long moment. "And don't call him that."

"Anything for you."

Her eyes widened, her gaze darting once to his face before dropping down to her hands, and another blush rose in her cheeks. The effect was lovely, the reason not as much.

_Oh –right. That's what this is. _Auruo looked at his own hands, currently clenched in his lap, and struggled to shove the hot lash of rejection down, where he wouldn't have to look at it or acknowledge its existence ever again. There was no logical reason to feel this way. He should have expected it. He was gawky and ugly and frequently unpleasant, and they were now part of a class full of people who were anything but gawky and ugly and unpleasant. Who could blame her?

"And I see you've met Wilhelmina already," Axel was saying. "What a delicious coincidence."

Abruptly Wil's self-satisfied air vanished. "It's Wil," she said between her teeth. "How many times do I have to tell you before it penetrates that misshapen rock that passes for your skull?"

"At least three," Axel shot back. "Maybe ten. I _am_ feeling kind of slow this morning."

Oskar snorted into his bowl.

"You three know each other?" Petra asked.

Wil rolled her eyes. "Unfortunately."

"She is so cruel," sighed Axel. "I think of her as one of my closest, dearest friends and this is how she treats me. The pain is almost too much to survive."

"And yet you manage," Wil fired back. "I'd call it inspirational if we weren't talking about you."

Axel waved this off with a grin. "To answer your question, lovely Petra; yes, we know each other. Wilhelmina's from nearby village, just an hour's walk south, actually. Rode the same cart here." He took another ambitious bite. "Maybe she hasn't told you this yet, but she had quite a reputation."

"I'm sure it's one she'd rather tell me about herself," Petra cut in quickly. "If she hasn't already."

Axel clutched his heart. "My god; beautiful and loyal. I'm in love."

_What the fuck is with this guy?_ Auruo thought, staring at him incredulously.

Wil sighed. "Pay no attention to Axel. I'm not even really sure he knows what the word means."

"Cut out my heart and eat it in front of me, why don't you?" Axel said, smirking. "Don't be jealous, Wilhelmina. You know I'll never get over you."

"I wish you would!" Wil retorted, but eyes sparkled with mischief. "Like I said. Axel makes a lot of noise, but we're not really sure if he's achieved complete sentience yet." She patted him on the hand. "Maybe someday, little guy. Reach for the stars."

Wil and Axel carried on bickering, but Auruo was no longer paying attention. With a jolt, he realized Petra was staring at him, her expression oddly overwhelmed, focused completely on his mouth. Unconsciously he brought his fingers to his lips, hoping that maybe there'd been food on his face this whole time and that's why she was acting so weird, but he felt nothing. She noticed that he'd noticed, and her gaze darted away.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked her, frowning.

Her cheeks were now so red he worried she might actually pass out. "N-nothing! I'm just … tired! That's it."

He knew she was lying, and it pissed him off. He got to his feet. "Right. I'll talk to you later, I guess. Nice meeting you," he said to Wil, and he was so upset that he didn't remember to be rude until he'd left the mess hall.

Outside, the morning fog had disappeared, so he didn't even have the satisfaction of disappearing into a haze until uniform fitting. He was angry, his pride slighted, but even worse her oddly cool and awkward treatment had hurt him. He should have been expecting it. He was stupid not to have expected it, so endlessly stupid. But it hurt all the same.

Not that he would ever admit any of this. As far as anyone else was concerned, he didn't care. Maybe he'd eventually convince himself too.

He heard a sound behind him, and hated that his first, shameful reaction was to feel a small kernel of hope – that maybe she'd followed him like she had four days ago, the day Wall Rose had closed for good. But it was only Martin, his expression pinched with concern.

"Oh – hey," he said. "Sorry. I've got a headache and they're all being loud assholes."

Martin accepted this, though he probably knew it was a lie. "They were a little loud, weren't they?"

Auruo waited for the pushing and prodding that most people could not seem to resist, but Martin just took a wordless seat beside him, and there they waited until the uniform fitting.

They said no more, and though he couldn't remember the last time he'd been this miserable, Auruo appreciated this boy; his quiet, awkward, yet stunningly astute bunkmate, who was little better than a stranger to him, yet still kind enough to offer wordless support when it was needed.

* * *

The uniform fitting was just as irritating a process as he'd feared. The officials had poked, prodded, and measured him along with the rest of the boys, and to his completely dismay he'd been shunted to the side of the room with the rest of the older recruits, forced to stand next to his least favorite person in the world.

He glared at Axel, noting with extreme displeasure that the asshole was even more well-muscled and strong than he'd seemed with his shirt on. He was built less like a boy and more like a barn – all wide shoulders, thick arms. As strong as Auruo himself had always wanted to be.

"See something you like?" Axel said when he caught Auruo's eye.

"How do you even get that big?" Auruo muttered bitterly. "Bench pressing cows?"

"Among other things," Axel said with a smug grin. Behind him, Oskar snickered.

Three hours later, he emerged from the warehouse in his uniform. He'd lived his whole life poor, scraping together whatever he could in the slum, and he'd never worn anything so well made in his life. The jacket fit him like a glove, and the stitching was strong (he'd checked – pulling on the seams until convinced they would hold). The belts across his legs and chest had clearly been worked until they achieved the perfect balance between give and tensile strength. A flash of guilt curled in his stomach when he looked at the supple boots on his feet; miles away, back home, his father was still wearing the same shoes he'd worn for the last sixteen years.

His fingers brushed at the twin blade crest stark over his heart. He knew that in three years he would trade those swords for wings, and today he was taking his first steps toward that lifelong aspiration. He would let nothing get in his way; not sleeplessness or nightmares, not the many irritating people he'd met in the last twenty-four hours, or inexplicable behavior of his best friend, who could no longer even look at him.

The officials herded them into rows, sorting them by their home towns. He only had enough time to realize what this meant when he caught sight of Petra, walking toward him – long hair pulled back in a neat braid, her lower lip caught between her teeth, resolutely avoiding his gaze. An odd feeling overwhelmed him.

He stared at her – still angry and weirdly hurt at the way she'd acted during breakfast, but unable to look away. As long as he'd known her, she'd always worn dresses and skirts, and the shape of her had been more or less a mystery. Now, clad in her uniform, there was nothing left to imagination and fanciful speculation that came to him in the middle of the night; her legs were slim, the curve of her hips leading to the curve of her backside in a way that was attractive without his knowing exactly how to describe it, a way that curled in his stomach, shivering in this thoughts.

Unbidden, he remembered that when he'd pinned her, that last Sunday before they left for training, her dress had slid midway up her thighs, and he had seen more of her bare, mysterious skin than he knew what to do with.

Swallowing hard, he looked away. _You can't lose your fucking mind every time she wears pants, _he thought angrily. It didn't matter what she looked like; didn't matter that she was so gorgeous it made his stomach hurt. She was a brat, and he was pissed; less that she'd been charmed by the inexplicable Axel, and more that she hadn't been able to talk to him, couldn't even look at him, more than he'd clearly done something to upset her, and she couldn't even tell him what it was.

This was probably for the best, he thought. Maybe it would be what helped him finally get over his humiliating desire.

The Commander strode through the ranks, haranguing the weaker looking recruits and passing the stronger ones by. And he hated this, but he couldn't pay attention to anything – not the Commander's hard bite of a voice echoing through the enclosure, not the trembling replies of his peers as they struggled to keep their composure. He heard the words in a passive, distant way because he was too aware of Petra. It was like his entire body had become a conduit of awareness, and he couldn't shift his focus to anything else. He was aware of her breathing, aware of her tight shoulders, the stiff way she stood next to him, and – he could hardly stand it – the way she began to shake the closer the Commander drew to their position.

"When the Commander comes, you can't talk back to him," she whispered, leaning close. He could feel her breath on his neck.

A jolt shot through him. He hated how much he'd wanted to hear her voice, how badly he'd wanted to feel her this near. "So now you're talking to me?" he retorted, because anger was easier.

"I'm serious, Auruo!"

"_Shh!" _

"He's going to try and get under your skin – that's the whole point. Just say yes sir no sir until he goes away, okay?"

"Do you think I'm an idiot or something? You think I'm just going to go out of my way to piss off the guy in charge?"

"I _know_ you have a temper, and you don't always think things through. Just try to keep it under control, all right?"

_"Will you shut up?! _He'll hear you!" he hissed.

And he hated this most out of everything that had happened today; her expression crumpled in hurt, and she turned away, facing forward, biting her lip hard enough that he worried she'd bite the whole fucking thing off.

_I don't deserve you, _he thought miserably.

With a smart heel-turn, the Commander came to a stop and stared through him, his flint-like eyes narrowing. He was powerfully built, clearly a veteran of many battles, and had a hard, craggy face that gave the impression of survived loss, trenched deep with displeasure and suffering. He pursed his thin lips, as if he found something not to his taste. "Your name."

He performed the salute. "Auruo Bossard. Sir."

"Hm. How old are you, Bossard?"

"Sixteen. Sir."

"You're old for a recruit," said the Commander, leaning so closely that their faces were only inches apart. "How about it, Bossard? Did it take you four years to get your nut up?"

His clenched fist shook on his chest, and he swallowed the wave of temper that nearly choked him. "No, sir."

"What's that? Couldn't hear you."

"I said no, sir!"

"Look at you; shaking like a leaf. All this a little too much for you, Bossard?"

"No, sir!"

The Commander narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, I'm thinking it is. I'm thinking you're one of the quitters. You a quitter, Bossard?"

He grit his teeth. "_No, sir!" _

"You look like a quitter. You look like you'll run crying home to your momma in a week flat."

It happened in less than a second. In the very distant part of his mind where logic and circumspection lived, he knew that he shouldn't. He was a soldier now, and he needed to learn when to keep his big mouth shut. But he was exhausted and hungry and harrowed by nightmares. He was driven by the fear that the longer Petra spent around people who clearly were better and more interesting than him, the less she'd want to do with him – gawky, stupid, and _so angry, _with nothing of value to offer. He was twelve years old again, desperate to snatch the cigarette out of an obnoxious bully's mouth and throw it in the river.

"Auruo, _don't,"_ Petra hissed next to him. But the words bubbled up his throat, burgeoning on his tongue, and he could not swallow them.

"D'you think you could move downwind?" he snapped unthinkingly "Or maybe stop chewing on assholes? That'd be great, thanks."

* * *

Petra sat on the porch outside the common hall, picking nervously at a hangnail on her thumb. In the distance she could see Auruo's shape emerging from the darkness, his hard breathing ripping through the otherwise quiet enclosure. For the last six hours, he'd been running – first as fast as he could, waves of temper radiating from him like heat, but now each footfall seemed to tax him beyond his ability to recover. He staggered, arms swinging loosely at his sides, but on his face was the same expression of furious resolve. She thought it might be permanently written there.

She'd expected to maintain her vigil alone, but to her surprise everyone from breakfast was there; Wil, of course, Axel and Oskar, and even the quiet boy named Martin, who had said nothing the whole evening but watched the darkness just as anxiously as she did.

"Run 'till you can't, Bossard," the Commander had said, shoving him hard down the path. And Auruo had. He would, until he couldn't – he would force himself to go as long as possible, because she knew the last thing he wanted was for anyone to think he was weak.

"He should have dropped hours ago," Wil said, crossing her arms. "Who cares what the Commander says? He doesn't have to run himself to death."

"He's too proud," Petra said, watching Auruo disappear around the barracks again, and the sound of his ragged breathing twisted her stomach into knots, cut right through her heart. "Too stubborn."

"Brainless," said Axel.

"Now, hold on a minute!" Petra snapped, her temper flaring to life. As far as she was concerned, she was the only person allowed to criticize Auruo's idiosyncrasies. "He won't cheat or take the easy way out, and in my opinion that's admirable! He has principles, and that's nothing to turn up your nose at, especially since it seems to me like you have none!"

"She's got you there," Wil added, smirking.

But Axel grinned too. "I was only teasing," he said cheekily. "No need to rush to your boyfriend's defense."

"H-he's not my boyfriend!" Petra shrieked, flushing.

Another cheeky shrug. "If you say so."

Wil cut her off before she could reply. "Hey Axel, sugar plum? How about you come with me for a second."

Axel wrinkled his nose. "Sugar plum? What the fuck?"

Wil ignored this, grabbing Axel by the arm and dragging him off until they were well out of earshot. Fuming, Petra turned away and stared into the darkness, watching hard for any sign of Auruo.

This day couldn't have gone worse if she'd planned specifically for a disaster. She'd coached herself extensively that morning – _don't look at his lips, don't think about that thing Wil said about his …thing, don't think at all. DON'T BE WEIRD, WEIRDO. _But the moment she'd caught sight of him grinning at her, in that adorable way that made her chest hurt, the easy camaraderie they shared vanished. She hadn't been able to speak. Her hands had trembled. She could only manage polite responses to his increasingly worried and hurt questions, and that had been the end of that.

She flushed, thinking about his lips – his fingers brushing the corner of his mouth (and those fingers!) She hadn't been able to breathe. She couldn't breathe now.

And the worst part was, he probably thought she was mad at him, or something equally wrong. That's how Auruo was. He assumed the worst.

With a heavy sigh, Wil dropped next to her and slung one arm carelessly around Petra's shoulders. "Sorry, lamb. I'm back."

"What was all that about?"

Wil shook her head. "There are not enough good deeds in the world for you two dumb shits."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'm sorry I say that thing about cocks." Her frowned deepened. "Like actually sorry, not just saying I'm sorry."

"You were just saying it before?!"

"Well, I had no idea you'd both be such idiots about it!" She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "God, you lamb. I thought you might actually pass out, just faceplant right in your breakfast."

"I felt like I would," Petra muttered, hugging her knees.

"Just don't look at his lips ever again, all right? Think you can manage that?" Wil shook her head. "Because apparently you both just fall to pieces when you can't do your weird codependent thing."

"We're not codependent."

Wil arched a brow. "He literally looked like you'd stabbed him. You've been moping all day. He goes off and self-destructs right in the Commander's face. You're both codependent and it kind of makes me sick."

Petra frowned, deeply annoyed that Wil was able to make this kind of observation after seeing them together for one day. "We're not codependent," she said again, though she knew she wasn't convincing anyone.

"Right, right," Wil sighed. "Whatever you say."

The worst part was that she knew Wil was right. Maybe they were, a little. It was the risk involved in spending every day of her life with someone, sneaking into their room at night so she could talk without listening ears, and spending the time they weren't together thinking about what she'd tell him as soon as she saw him again.

She peered into the darkness, a horrible jolt curdling in her gut. "I can't hear him anymore."

It was true – no more scuffing boots on the gravel as he forced himself harder. Even the sound of his ragged breathing had stopped, and for a second she feared that he'd actually dropped dead somewhere in the field behind the barracks. But before she could panic, she saw him reemerge from behind the farthest building, wobbling in place for a moment before keeling right over, landing hard face first in the dirt.

She was on her feet and moving toward him before even consciously aware of it.

"There he is," Axel said, dropping off the porch behind her with a loud thud. "Think I'll help him back; doesn't seem like he's getting up anytime soon." And with that, he took off at a brisk jog toward the pile of exhausted sixteen-year old boy that was Auruo. But she was faster – she reached Auruo before any of them, dropping to her knees at his side and rolling him onto his back.

"Auruo?!"

"Petra," he gasped. "You're … hurting my arm."

_Oh – right_. She let go.

"And there's the champion," grinned Axel, leaning down. "How's about we get you back, huh?"

Mumbling from the pile of Auruo – they both had to crane closer to hear him. "If you pick me up ..." he wheezed, "I'll knock your fuckin' teeth out."

"Auruo!" she hissed.

But Axel only laughed. "Wouldn't dream of it, Boss. Come on, throw your arm around my shoulder."

"Don't call me that," Auruo muttered, but he acquiesced without any further protest.

Gently, Axel half-carried him back to their barracks before propping him against the side of the building. She saw that Auruo's legs shook, and though he was slowly catching his breath, he seemed so weak, hardly even able to keep himself upright. She'd never seen him so exhausted, not even after his first week of working in the steel mill.

"I've gotta admit," Wil said, crouching next to him. "Didn't think you'd last that long."

Auruo glanced at Petra before looking away. "'ve got a lot of practice. Running, I mean."

Whatever resolve she'd managed to find wavered, and she swallowed hard. _God, stop being so lovely, you idiot! _

Martin frowned down at him. "Why not just run for a few hours? I do not think the Commander would have known the difference."

"Because … because it was – a fuckin' challenge!" Auruo snapped. "'Run 'til you can't,' that's what he said. Like I'd just fall over after one lap."

"You are lucky they did not kick you out."

"They wouldn't kick me out, not for mouthing off anyway," Auruo shrugged, his voice hoarse. "They're too hard up for soldiers. They need everyone that can cut it."

"You sure you'll be one of the ones that can cut it?" Axel said, smirking. Behind him, Oskar smirked.

"You're fuckin' right, I will be," Auruo snarled. "That old asshole thinks he can scare me away. He'll see."

"You have principles, Boss," said Axel with a wink. "And I've been informed by a lovely authority that they're admirable things to have."

Petra could have kicked him.

* * *

The six of them sat on the porch for the entire evening until curfew, and the entire time Petra felt as if her anxiety would chew a hole in her stomach. She watched Auruo out of the corner of her eye – noting that he could breathe, but his body still shook with exhaustion. She waited until Wil had distracted the others with one of her stories before scooting close enough that they wouldn't be overheard.

"Hey," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," he muttered. "Look, Petra, it's been a pretty shitty day, and if you tell me 'I told you so', I'm probably gonna say some things I really won't like saying to you, and I'll feel even worse about them later when I can think straight, so just – please don't."

She glared at him. "You're a terrible mind reader, so shut up for a minute and let me get this out."

"For fuck's sake."

"I was going to say I'm sorry."

Whatever smart retort he'd been planning died on his lips, and instead he looked at her, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. And she look at him right back– propped against the side of the barracks, his ashy blond hair streaked with dirt, those damn lips turned into a frown, hazel eyes serious and hooded with hurt she could tell he was trying not to feel. "You're sorry, huh," he said quietly.

"Yes, I am."

After a moment, he shrugged. "Yeah. I am too. I mean, for snapping at you." He picked at his fingernails. "What was even going on with you today, anyway?"

She flushed. "It's … not important."

"It's not anything I did, is it?"

"No. It wasn't. It isn't." _Not anything you did intentionally, anyway. _

He swallowed. "All right."

They said no more, watching the stars peeking through the feathery tops of pine trees. And she tried to tell herself that things could go back to normal, that it could be exactly like it had been only days ago, when she'd crawled into his bedroom window because she couldn't stand not to see his face or hear his voice. She'd been so blind then, and she vastly preferred that blindness to awareness, because a life without Auruo was not one she wanted to contemplate, but she had no idea how to forge ahead, or if he even wanted the strange, wonderful things she suddenly found herself wanting.

A few days ago, she could have reached out and held his hand. Tonight, they sat separately, arms crossed around themselves, protecting from something neither of them fully understood.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Thanks to ReachForTheSky, Anais, ILove2Write13, and Doka Shibichan for your reviews, and to everyone else that has read, faved, and followed. Your support keeps me going!**

Like the night before, Petra and Wil conferred until the lanterns were extinguished, speaking in whispers so as not to be overheard by the rest of the girls in their barracks. Petra undid her braid and combed through the messy strands, and Wil spent most of the night twisting her hair up into elaborate shapes, her cool fingers brushing against Petra's neck.

"If I had hair like yours I'd never cut it," she said, grinning.

"What are you talking about?" Petra arched a brow. "Yours is lovely and you know it."

"Eh. It's really thin and it gets tangled easily, so I just lop it all off. Easier to manage. Especially now that I'm a soldier." Wil slammed her fist to her heart in a mocking approximation of the salute. "Gotta think about the soldier kinds of things, now."

"Weren't you already?"

"Well, yeah. I guess. But I mean, when you're a dumb kid in some dumpy village, it's all … off in the future, you know? It's this big adventure that's still a long way off, so you just build it up in your mind to keep from dying of boredom. Now I'm here, and reality's creeping up on me."

Petra was quiet. She'd been thinking about this too.

"Ah, lamb. Don't let me bum you out."

"You're not. I'm just … a little lost today, I guess." Petra ducked her head. Lost didn't even begin to cover it.

"Because of that thing about the cocks?"

"_Stop calling it that thing about the cocks!" _Petra rubbed her eyes in an attempt to try and scrub the speculation out of her mind. "God – it's like I finally forget about it and then you bring it up again!"

Wil snorted, dissolving into giggles that were too adorable for her favored cool facades. "I'm sorry, I really am. It's just that unless the whole thing repulses you outright, you're going to have to come to terms with it eventually."

"The problem is that it doesn't repulse me," she admitted after a moment. "Not even a little."

"_I knew it. _A seductress in the making."

"Will you stop it?!"

"Ah crap. I'm sorry." Wil gave her shoulder a little shake. "My default state is giving people a hard time. And just because I adore you doesn't mean you get a free pass."

"You adore me, huh?"

Wil shrugged. "Sure. You're adorable."

Petra had to bite down on the '_ugh' _halfway out of her mouth; the word was Auruo's favorite response whenever she said the same about him. "Thanks, I suppose."

"No supposing about it." Wil flashed her another quicksilver grin. "Anyway. I'm sorry I contributed to your hard day."

Petra shrugged. "It was nowhere near as hard as Auruo's."

Wil snorted. "That dumbass isn't even going to be able to walk tomorrow."

Petra knew she shouldn't laugh, and it wasn't funny anyway – but the whole situation was so unfunny that it almost came out the other end into hilarity. "It'll hurt, probably. But he will."

"God. When you said you'd be surprised if he didn't get into a fight, I believed you. I just didn't think he'd go pick a fight with the fucking Commander."

Petra giggled and promptly felt guilty about it. But it was just like him, she thought; he didn't care who you were, he cared what you did. And that mattered to her. "Maybe I shouldn't have been surprised about that."

Wil combed her fingers through Petra's hair. "I don't think he liked me very much. But I like him."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. He's funny."

"I mean, I agree with you, but he wasn't really funny today."

"I thought he was," Wil insisted, smirking. "And anyone who adores you as much as he clearly does is all right in my book."

Petra felt her cheeks grew warm. "I don't think it's like that for him."

"Uh huh. How's that?"

"He's my oldest friend," Petra said, smoothing the covers over her knees. "And until yesterday, he was my only friend. I know his parents and brothers just as well as my own father. So to him … I mean, we're practically family. He probably sees me like a little sister."

"Oh, _lamb." _

"Don't 'oh, lamb' me," Petra snapped. "I know him better than you do."

"Yeah, but you're also blinded by feelings. Tricky, unreliable things."

"And you're not ever?"

Wil shrugged blithely. "I don't have feelings anymore. I laugh at everything, and nothing touches me."

She'd meant it as a joke, but to Petra the words sounded inexplicably sad. Wil heard it too, and before Petra could say anything she'd cleared her throat, charming smile back in place. "Anyway. My point is you don't really see the situation clearly because you're infatuated."

Infatuated wasn't really the right word, but Petra didn't feel like arguing the matter. "If you say so."

"I do."

"So what's different about training than how you always thought?" Petra asked after a long moment.

Wil twisted Petra's hair into an elegant knot at the nape of her neck. "Well, for one thing we haven't even really started training yet. That's tomorrow. You know, learning how to use 3DMG."

Petra nodded encouragingly; she had been looking forward to it, actually.

Wil sighed. "I don't know. I sure as hell didn't see Axel and Oskar here with me. I'm not really sure if this is self-centered, but I can't help wondering if Axel joined up just to fuck with me."

Petra was quiet, weighing her curiosity against circumspection. "Did … something happen? Between you two?"

Wil's lips twisted – with humor or disdain? "Yeah, something happened. And before you start getting all upset, it's not a really big deal."

"Did you sleep with him?" Petra whispered, remembering Wil's claims to experience from the night before.

Wil hesitated, but after a moment her lips tugged into a grin. "If you could call it that."

"What do you mean?"

She leaned closer, her features almost manic with mischief. "_He's a terrible lay."_

"_What?!" _

Wil put her hand on her heart and adopted an air of utter solemnity. "I swear on my future grave."

"Ugh, don't say things like that." Petra shivered. "God."

"Why not? Everyone has one." Wil bared her teeth. "Don't tell me you're superstitious, lamb."

"I just have a healthy respect for serious things."

"That's dull as shit."

Petra scowled. "_Anyway." _

"Yes, indeed. Back to the matter at hand." Wil tugged on the ends of Petra's hair. "That matter being Axel and his utter lack of prowess."

Petra kept a straight face only through great personal effort. "I thought – I mean, Axel's so –"

"Such a cad, you mean? Hits on everything."

"Right," Petra whispered. "You'd think he'd know what he was doing."

"He doesn't," Wil hissed delightedly. "_Not at all!" _

"_Oh my god." _

Petra knew she would probably feel guilty about it later, but Wil snorted with laughter and that set her off, and they sat there in her bunk, giggling stupidly about Axel's lack of prowess for far longer than the fact actually deserved.

"I probably should cut him a break," Wil said, wiping her eyes. "He's a bit of a dumbass, but he means well. Usually." She gestured dismissively. "I mean it doesn't change the fact that he's absolutely terrible in bed, but there is that. He does mean well."

This was all new to Petra, who had thought extensively on the subject but had zero actual experience. "What did he do wrong, exactly?" she whispered.

"Ugh. More than I can really explain in one conversation."

Regardless, Petra waited for the explanation since up to this point Wil had been generous with them, but she did not elaborate. And though Petra was curious, she let the subject drop.

After a moment, Wil shrugged. "Like I said, it wasn't that big of a deal. And I mean it too, I'm not just saying that to get you to leave me alone."

"All right."

"Don't be put out, lamb. I'll tell all one of these days." Her grin became sly. "Especially now that it looks like I'm responsible for your education."

"I could always figure it out on my own," Petra huffed. "I'm not an idiot."

"And I'm not saying you are," Wil said, piling Petra's hair elaborately on top of her head. "Not right now, anyway."

Petra didn't respond to the barb; instead, she noted the skillful movements of Wil's hands as she worked, quick fingers, sure motions. "Where did you learn to do this?"

She felt Wil shrug. "I'd do it for my mom. She used to do everyone's hair. Not like we were rich or anything, but she's really feminine, always had to be put together like a real lady. Same for me and my sisters. But hasn't been able to do much with her hands for years; they shake too badly. So I learned, so she could have her ladylike hair.

"I mean, my sisters can too. Just that Gert is the oldest and kind of a shithead, thinks it shouldn't be her job. And Izzy is the youngest, and it really shouldn't be her job." Wil sighed. "There you have it."

Suddenly, the fact that Wil kept her hair closely cropped to her head felt much more significant. "Is that why you cut yours?" Petra said, frowning.

Wil withdrew her hands, and Petra's hair tumbled down her back. "Like I said. It's easier to manage."

Petra was quiet, a hard knot tightening in the pit of her stomach. She remembered more than her mother's death, which had come when she was eight, but that end had been so terrible that it often tainted every lovely memory that had come before. It had turned the bright, energetic woman with busy hands who sang and told stories to a wisp of a woman with covers wrapped tightly around her thin shoulders, her bones sharp as knives under taut skin, copper hair that faded to wispy white well before her time. It replaced the memory of her mother dancing with her father in the kitchen, and left only this image: a cup of tea rattling in her hands before shattering on the floor. She bit hard on the inside of her cheek, swallowing the old grief.

Whatever these thoughts did to Petra's expression, Wil noticed. "You think I'm horrible," she managed in a strange, brittle voice, misunderstanding. "Leaving my sick mom behind."

Petra shook her head fervently. "No."

"I am, though." Wil looked down at her upturned hands, the feathery lines that branched across her palms. "I'm not here for any special, noble reason. I wanted to get away from her."

Petra couldn't stand it; she took Wil's hands in her own, squeezing them tightly. "I understand," she said. "I really do."

Wil shook her head, drawing a shaky breath. "Fuck," she said. "I had a plan, okay? I wasn't going to talk about any of this goddamn stupid shit. Who even wants to hear about it?"

"I do," Petra said. "I'll listen to anything you need to say."

After a moment, Wil's quicksilver grin was back, though it lacked her usual verve. "Nah. It's fine. It is what it is. If you don't mind, maybe we could go back to talking about cocks and the idiots they're attached to, and just … forget I said anything about this stupid shit, huh?"

Petra would rather talk about anything else, since she couldn't seem to talk about it without embarrassing herself, or even consider it without summoning visions of her best friend, inexplicably in various stages of undress. But at that moment she felt incredible sadness for her friend, and she knew she'd do anything she needed, anything that would ease her trouble, if only a little. She smiled. "That sounds fun."

* * *

Auruo could barely get out of bed the next morning. His entire body thrummed with ache; his legs too stiff to move, his arms and shoulders so sore that even breathing sent tight waves of pain through his besieged muscles. He stood with great difficulty and winced; even his feet hurt.

Martin noticed the wince. "Are you all right?"

"Yep," Auruo said with a tight grin, waving him off. "Just fine."

He wasn't really, but it was going to be a long day of pretending he was fine, nothing hurt, of _course not,_ so he might as well get an early start on making the lie convincing.

Aches aside, he'd slept through the whole night, too exhausted even for nightmares. And that seemed like a good omen.

At breakfast the recruits were informed that a schedule would be set in a few days, where they would divide their time between the relevant academic studies, horseback, survival, and combat, but today and tomorrow they were going to be tested for their general aptitude and potential in 3DMG. It made sense to Auruo – no point in wasting time and training on anyone who couldn't hack the most important skillset of the military. But anxiety coiled hard in his gut, turning breakfast into a block of stress. It would figure if he failed this assessment because he was almost too sore too move, if he ruined his chances because he was too stupid to keep his mouth shut and too stubborn to be smart about his punishment.

Axel clapped him hard on the back, and the shot of pain brought him crashing back to the present. "You doing alright there, Boss?"

"Sure am," he said between clenched teeth. "Don't fuckin' call me that."

"Sorry, sorry. I keep forgetting.

Auruo wasn't so sure. And in fact, he was starting to get irritated with everyone asking him how he was, like he was on his last legs and the only way to keep him from crumbling to pieces was to check on him every two minutes. He ducked his head and shoveled the rest of breakfast into his mouth, the better to avoid fielding questions.

After breakfast, the trainees congregated in the main enclosure, where a row of rudimentary harnesses had been erected in orderly rows. Auruo quickly understood that they were meant to balance in the harness, and that those who were unable to do so would be sent home in disgrace. He frowned.

"What is it?" Petra asked him.

"We're just supposed to balance, right?"

"That's what it looks like."

He shrugged. "I just thought this whole test thing would be harder."

Petra watched as the officials prepared the harnesses for use, her lips pursing. "Supposedly it's pretty hard just to balance."

"If it were that hard, you think three years would be enough to learn how to hack it?"

"Three years is a long time."

He scowled at her. "You're disagreeable today."

"You're disagreeable every day," she shot back. But she grinned, and after a moment he grinned too. It wasn't completely back to normal – normal being her ability to rake him over the coals regarding anything and everything, and tease him until she couldn't breathe from laughing – but he felt like it was a step in the right direction. He wouldn't be picky.

"How are you feeling, by the way?" she asked, craning up to look at him.

"_I'm fine," _he said, goodwill all but forgotten. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"Because you don't look fine," she said. "Remember what I said about lying to me?"

"Yeah, but I bet you're going to remind me anyway."

Another small grin. "It's pointless because I know you. Out with it."

He sighed, scuffing at the ground with his boots. "I'm fine. Just a little sore, is all."

"A little?"

"For fuck's sake. _Yes."_

But she didn't respond to the curse; instead she fixed him with a worried expression, brows low over her eyes (_really fucking pretty eyes), _and the block of breakfast in his gut flopped weakly before lodging itself somewhere in the back of his throat. _I swear to god if you puke on her – _

"Don't give me the worried face, okay?" he cut in before she could say anything that might really knock him on his ass. "I can't deal with worried Petra right now."

"Well I wouldn't want to overburden you or anything," she retorted. "God forbid. What does that even mean, anyway?"

"It means you fret," he pointed out in what he imagined was an equitable tone. "All the fuckin' time. You're kind of a nag."

She rounded on him. "I am not!"

"How have we not had this conversation before? Yeah you are."

"Give me one example!"

He smirked. "What are you doing right now? Right this second? Chatting? Shooting the breeze? Are we having a friendly exchange of events and ideas? No. You're nagging. This is practically your fuckin' resting state."

"Don't use that language."

"See? _See?" _he said, smirk widening. "Can you even help yourself?"

He'd caught her and she knew it. She blew her bangs out of her eyes and glowered at him, and he found the gesture so unbearably endearing that for a moment he forgot that everything hurt and he was minutes away from determining his fate in the only thing he'd ever wanted to do with his life.

"Is this you telling me you want me to leave you alone?" she asked.

"Nah," he said, trying to play it cool, though the very suggestion made the block of breakfast churn in his gut."I mean, what would you even do with yourself if you couldn't rake some poor dumbshit over the coals?"

"You being that dumbshit, of course."

_Of course?! "_Sure." He grinned down at her. "Look at you, two days in the military and already cursing like the best of them."

"You're a bad influence," she told him.

"Probably," he agreed. "You knew that already."

"God, did I." The start of a grin tugged at her lips. "From day one."

"There you go. And just so you know, being a nag is not necessarily a bad thing."

"No?"

"Nope."

She studied him carefully. "Why not?"

_Because it means you care. _"Because it's funny."

"Oh … right," she said, facing the harnesses again, and he thought briefly that her tone seemed disappointed, liked she'd been looking for a different answer, or maybe could sense that he'd given her one that was only a part of the truth, missing its essential core. She probably hadn't meant it as a test, but he'd failed it anyway.

He'd been halfway to confessing the real reason when the Commander announced to their block of recruits that the exercise would begin, so he shut his mouth and tried to ignore the nagging feeling that every time he said something stupid and cowardly and untrue, he pushed Petra further away.

As Petra was led to her harness, he caught Wil staring at him with a speculative expression, her shockingly blue eyes narrowed in thought. When she met his gaze, her lips pulled into a smirk.

"What?" he asked her.

"You really are terrible liar," she said, her smirk widening diabolically. "Just pitiful."

So she'd been eavesdropping. He frowned. "And you'd know a good liar from a bad one, would you."

"Absolutely."

He turned away, fuming. Leave it to Petra to go and adopt the most irritating person she could find in her barracks.

"Oh, goodness. Have I struck a nerve?" Wil asked, delighted.

"What do you want me to say? Gee, stranger; thank you kindly for these unwelcome insights into my character, which are almost certainly true and not just random fuckin' guesses by someone who wouldn't know an asshole from an elbow."

"Colorful," Wil grinned. "But wrong. I would know, and in fact I _do _know. You're utter shit at lying. You're so pitiful that this random stranger sees it."

"And I'm sure saying that over and over again makes it _extra true." _He sneered. "Better say it a few more times for good measure."

Unlike Petra, this girl was impossible to throw off with sarcasm; in fact, it seemed to Auruo that she thrived on it. "Oh, you are going to be fun."

"What the fuck is that even supposed to mean?"

"Just what I said." Her grin acquired a manic edge. "You can unclench now."

He stared at her, totally agog – she was even more vulgar than even him, and that was saying something. "How can Petra stand you?"

"Quite well, actually." She shot him a knowing look. "Does that make you jealous?"

"_Of you?! _You're kidding, right?"

Wil examined her nails. "Pretty serious right now, actually. Does it?"

"F-for fuck's sake, _no." _

"Hm. Are you sure?" Wil craned close, and in that moment Auruo believed that she might actually be able to tell he was lying. "Doesn't bother you to think of her telling me things she wouldn't tell you?"

It _did _bother him, but he shook his head. "What she says to who is her fuckin' business. Are we done with the fuckin' third degree?!"

Wil's knowing grin was back. "For now."

He didn't have a chance retort because in that moment the assistant Lieutenant called his name, gesturing to the empty harness next to Petra's. He swallowed hard, a new wave of anxiety reanimating the block of breakfast currently wreaking havoc in his stomach. He was not going to puke. He was not going to wince. It was going to hurt, and he was going to keep a straight face.

"Now, we're just looking for potential," the assistant said kindly as she strapped him into the harness. "We don't expect mastery today. We just want to see some general instinct for it."

That was worse, in his opinion, as it was a lot harder to fake instinct. "Right," he managed.

He surveyed the enclosure. In the distance he could see small figures floundering in their harnesses, accompanied by dismayed shouting. A few contraptions down the row, a small, black hair girl flailed desperately for purchase, but no matter what she did she could not seem to right herself. He saw her jaw set, her hands balling into fists. She had a distinctly unfriendly face, but in that moment he pitied her.

"Your name, again?" one of the assistants asked her.

The girl chewed savagely at her lip. "Johanna Mueller," she bit out.

She was able to manage a cobbled approximation of balance on her next lift, but everyone could see it was a precarious thing. Regardless, Johanna Mueller's expression was one of fierce satisfaction.

To his right, Petra hung suspended in her harness, balanced perfectly. She looked as if she'd been born to it, as if she was a heartbeat away from grappling the side of the building and soaring through the air, and in fact walking earthbound was the unnatural arrangement. He remembered her running, how it often seemed that she didn't touch the ground, and realized that her aptitude here wasn't much a surprise.

_Fucking get it together. _

"Are you ready?" the assistant asked him.

He nodded tightly, gritting his teeth.

The assistant wound the crank, and for a second he thought he'd be a natural too – his feet no longer touched the ground, he wasn't flailing, he wasn't falling, he was actually going to do this! – but the straps bit into his besieged muscles, and the pain nearly knocked him over. He bit back the gasp halfway out of his mouth only at the last minute.

It was a disaster. No matter what he did or where he shifted his weight, he couldn't seem to find that elusive balance. The longer he flailed the more frustrated he became, until all he could think was that the moment they let him down they'd kick his ass out, send him back to Karanese in disgrace, and he'd live out the rest of his miserable, pitiful life knowing that he couldn't even manage the most basic element of being a soldier, that he was so pathetic he'd wait around with the rest of the world for the Titans to come back and break through the Walls, after which they'd eat his family and the people he cared about, and there was nothing he'd be able to do about it.

"Auruo!" Petra said, cupping her hand against her mouth so her whisper would carry (and he noted with an odd mixture of pride and jealousy that this did not compromise her own balance whatsoever). "Calm down."

"I'm fine," he muttered, his arms windmilling as he struggled to right himself.

"Auruo," she said, shooting him a look, and he understood that look better than he understood most explicit language. "Look at me."

An odd jolt shot through him. "W-what?"

"Do this with your legs." She demonstrated, and he hated that the first thought that flashed through his mind was how badly he'd like to touch those legs someday, and not acknowledgement that she was trying to help him achieve his fucking life aspirations. _God damn it, you fucking idiot, get it together, _he cursed himself. With a hitch of breath, he copied her posture as best he could, and to his surprise he balanced out almost immediately. She beamed at him. "Better, right?"

He was nowhere close to being as stable as she was – she didn't even wobble. But he wasn't flailing, wasn't a breath away from flopping over and smacking his head on the posts or something. The straps bit into his sore body, but the moment he steadied he no longer felt any pain, and the moment she smiled at him, he forgot that there had been pain in the first place.

"Thanks Petra," he managed.

"You'd be in so much trouble without me," she said, grinning at him as she swayed in her harness.

"I'd do alright."

"You would fall flat on your face."

It was true, but he couldn't even manage the presence of mind to be irritated about it, because he wasn't a failure, he'd managed this most essential element of his training and wouldn't be sent home in disgrace, because she was smiling at him like she had for years, like nothing had changed, and she looked so beautiful.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Thanks to Anais, renijo, ILove2Write13, Doka Shibichan for your reviews, and to everyone else who have read, faved and followed!**

Auruo fidgeted. At the front of the room, Instructor Hall indicated a painstakingly rendered diagram on the blackboard with a ruler. Her voice faded to an indistinct whine as she spoke, and no matter how hard Auruo tried to concentrate, her tone made the endeavor impossible.

"Now if you are skilled, you can use the stream of gas to manipulate your path," she said, tapping the blackboard. Auruo perked – practical 3DMG use was interesting. But it had only been a throwaway mention; soon she was elucidating the history of the invention, and Auruo felt his eyes glaze over.

To his right, Martin scrawled copious notes in cramped handwriting, brushing away pencil shavings at irregular intervals. Auruo knew that he wouldn't mind sharing what he'd managed to glean from the lecture later; in fact, his mercy was really the only reason Auruo hadn't been drummed out of training by now, almost a year later.

Auruo glanced out the window, daring to hope. Slate grey sky stretched over the compound, thick clouds heavy with the promise of snow. He sent up a half-coherent prayer to whoever was listening that those clouds would pass, that instead of another day long lecture they'd be permitted to resume physical training, which was the only aspect of their education that he was halfway decent at. But the clouds broke and a blanket of snow descended, almost as if that uncaring god had heard his prayers and decided to do the opposite for the sole purpose of tormenting him.

He let his head thunk on the desk in dismay.

He heard scribbling to his left, felt the corner of a notebook jabbing into his forearm. He looked up into Petra's amused face, and then down at the words on the page she offered.

_You're being dramatic again._

He pulled the notebook to his side of the desk and scrawled a reply, which took twice as long as it took her.

_**Don't you see the snow? **_

_Sure. I'm not blind. _

_**So that means no practical work today.**_

_There's always tomorrow, you know._

_**But that's TOMORROW, with a big fat maybe attached. I can't handle another whole day cooped up in this goddamn room, listening to Hall turn things that should be interesting into boring fucking garbage.**_

_ If you're going to write in my notes, you can't swear._

He took the opportunity to do so under his breath. 'Fuckin' insufferable,' he grumbled, and she made a face.

_**Fine. No more swearing. **_

_Ever?_

_**In your stupid notes.**_

But she smiled, satisfied.

_You really should pay attention, you know._

_**Why. None of this stuff matters that much.**_

_Yes it does._

She scowled up at him when he shook his head and furiously scribbled an addendum.

_Why wouldn't it matter?_

_**I just don't think it's going to make much of a difference if we know exactly how the 3DMG was invented. Who made it, how many years it took to work out the kinks. Like maybe it's interesting trivia, but it's not going to save our lives when we're out there in the field. **_

She allowed this with a shrug.

_So maybe today's lesson isn't that essential. But you know they determine our strategy scores based on the work we do in here. Our written final plays a huge part._

_** There's the practical in Trost during our last year too.**_

_You think you can ignore everything that goes on in here and then just breeze through the practical. _

He shot her a cocky grin.

_**Maybe. We'll see, won't we?**_

_ I thought you'd care more about your ranking._

To be honest, he did care. He cared so much it made him sick. He hated the thought of being bested by people who'd just use their superior rank to get into the Military Police, where they would go on to live their cushy lives on the safe side of Wall Sina, doing whatever soft things it was that those cowards did. His bias probably had a lot to do with the fact that Military Police had been the aspiration of the bullies who'd tormented him throughout childhood, but there was another part to it; he hated that those who were the most skilled should have the choice to get away from the front lines, where they'd do the most good.

It had been the subject of heated debate the first week of their training. Axel insisted that those who wanted to go serve the King and live a nice life in the meantime weren't so bad. Auruo insisted that they could go ahead and do that, whatever, but they better not make it about anything other than serving themselves.

But he shrugged.

_** It doesn't matter what my ranking is. I'm joining the Scouting Legion. They'll take anyone, no matter how unskilled.**_

He hadn't really expected Petra to believe this, and true to form she shot him a skeptical look.

_You are so full of crap._

_**What the **__**fuck**__**? **_

_That is complete garbage and you know it! I've seen the way you train. Just can't wait to get your swords. Can't wait to scale the wall. Run the course. Chomping at the bit to prove you're strong._

They were due to start training with swords after the first Interim, which was in a couple days. After months of practicing low level pot-shot maneuvers in their 3DMG, they would finally take to the makeshift wall and cliff faces that surrounded the camp grounds, learning how to actually move as a soldier. He yanked the notebook back, scribbling an irritated reply.

_**I'll need to be strong. And so will you. It doesn't matter what rank I am.**_

_YOU ARE SO FULL OF CRAP._

She underlined the reply three times for emphasis, and for a moment would not let him have the notebook back. They squabbled as quietly and unobtrusively as they could, so as not to attract the attention of Instructor Hall. He tried to ignore the jolt that shot through his arm when Petra shoved his hand away, her fingers brushing his wrist. Finally he managed to catch the corner and drag it to his side of the desk.

_**Geez, will you calm **__**the fuck**__** down? Yeah, fine. I care about the ranks. **_

_Why do you pretend you don't? _

He forced himself to keep a straight face, because she was entirely too good at reading his mind.

_**It's not important.**_

She was not impressed with this answer.

_ Why do you always do this?_

_**I don't! **_

_You do and we both know it. _

He snatched the notebook back, successfully goaded and irritated about it.

_**Come on. Who wants to listen to an idiot rant and rave about this **__**shit **__**stuff? **_

_You sure got the idiot part right. _

_** Well, geez. Why do I even talk to you?**_

_ Because I'm the only person who knows how to put up with your crap._

_** Martin does that pretty well too, you know. And he doesn't call me an idiot every **__**fucking **__**day.**_

_ Does he? My goodness. I hope you two are very happy together._

He noticed her grumpy expression and an odd feeling curled in his stomach, one that was not altogether unpleasant.

_** Are you jealous?!**_

_No._

_** You are! You should see your face! **_

_ I'm not jealous! What's to be jealous of, anyway? _

_**You're mad because you're not the only long-suffering all-patient friend in my life anymore. You have been joined. NAY, SURPASSED.**_

She flushed, to his delight.

_Surpassed, huh? Good. Better him that me._

_** You're actually mad! This is the best day of my life.**_

_ If this day is the best day of your life, then your life is pathetic. _

_**OUCH! Why not just stab me in the heart with your pencil, huh? Might liven up this boring class a bit. **_

_ Then I won't give you the satisfaction._

He kept himself from laughing aloud only through great force of effort. He loved this – loved when she'd trade barbs with him, loved when her irritated expression would crumble and a smile would replace it.

_** I don't think this needs to be said, but in case it does - you haven't really been surpassed. **_

_You don't have to do me any favors, Auruo._

_**I'm not! I mean it. Your patience is legend. Your ability to put up with my crap the stuff of myth. I am perpetually in awe.**_

_You're teasing me._

_**I wouldn't dare. **_

But he snorted, and the effect was ruined. Instructor Hall looked up from her diagrams at the pair of them, and they froze. He pretended to scribble furious notes and Petra stared at her intently; both the very picture of attentive, dutiful students. When Hall turned back to the blackboard, she shoved him.

_ We'll be caught if you can't keep from snickering like a dope. _

_**Stop being so funny and maybe I will!**_

She bit her lip – against laughter?

_ By the way, __you__ called yourself an idiot. I just agreed with you._

She drew an arrow up the page to illustrate her point. He shrugged.

_**Irrelevant details. **_

_They're only irrelevant because they don't serve you!_

_**Exactly! Don't let anyone tell you that you're not a genius, got it? It's all slander and lies.**_

She rolled her eyes.

_ANYWAYS__. Before you distracted me I was saying that the ranks DO matter. The strongest are the top ten._

_**I know that. **_

_So pay attention in class. Otherwise your strategy scores will be garbage and you won't be strong. _

_**Look at you - nagging when you're not paying attention either. Lead by example, Petra Ral! Or I'll do like you do, and not like you say.**_

_ Are you really so easily led astray?_

_When it comes to you, I am, _he thought.

_** Probably!**_

She tried valiantly to keep her mask of stern disapproval in place, but her lips twitched against a grin and he knew he'd won her over.

_You're horrible. _

_**I sure hope that isn't a surprise to you. **_

_IT'S NOT._

He would have replied but Instructor Hall chose that moment to begin lecture on a new topic – notable masters of the 3DMG – and Petra resumed her note-taking with one last smile in his direction. He sighed, settled his head on crossed arms, and struggled to pay attention. But it was as if their instructor's voice slipped through his ears before he could grasp what she was talking about.

He was too easily distracted.

By Martin sweeping aside pencil shavings at regular intervals, by Axel snoring softly behind him, by Wil drumming her fingers on the desk. In front of him, Johanna drew angular shapes in her notebook (jutting towers, birds with blade-like wings). Lukas elbowed Fritz with a smirk and folded a piece of paper into squares, flicking it across the room, where it struck Kirsten in the neck. She flinched, and Gretchen whipped around to glare at them, her startling eyes flashing. They snickered, and she tossed her golden hair over her shoulder, well aware of the effect it had on them. Konrad hunched forward, watching Instructor Hall intently; Auruo couldn't see his hands, but he suspected he played with one of his many hidden knives that had survived the Commandant's purge.

He was distracted by the snow, by the swirling eddies of it, the drifts accumulating against the walls outside, the howling wind whistling through the rafters. It was one of the worst winters he could remember; nearly April and yet the snow continued on, melting enough to taunt them with the promise of spring before resurrecting itself with a vengeance.

He was distracted by Petra; by her slim fingers, by the way she wrote, the looping grace of her handwriting spilling across the page, and how it looked next to his own clumsy heavy-handed scrawl. He noticed the way she tucked a strand that had come loose from her braid behind her ear, how she pursed her lips when Instructor Hall said something she found challenging or interesting. Shamefully, he could not keep from looking when she bunched her cardigan tighter around her slim shoulders as another gust of cold air rattled the windows, her fingers brushing the bare skin above the collar of her shirt. She crossed her legs, her foot lightly brushing his shin, and he nearly fell out of his seat.

_Pathetic, _he cursed himself, willing his racing heart to slow. _Fucking ridiculous. Mooning like some moron. Stupid, fucking pathetic, fucking - _

It had been like this for long enough that he should have been used to it. Maybe he was, to some extent. He'd set up enough mental barriers on the subject of Petra that he was more or less able to function normally when she was around – he could talk to her, tease her, laugh at her without thinking about how deeply he adored her (or how much he'd like to kiss her, and everything else along those lines), and it was normal. Kind of. But beneath the affectation he was tangled in knots, a miserable wreck. He was coiled up so tightly that all she had to do was brush his leg to bring him to the brink of heart failure.

She slid the notebook to him again.

_Sorry for scaring you._

Of course she noticed. Wonderful. He started to write a reply, though his pounding heart made it somewhat difficult.

_**Nah, don't be. You just scared me, is all. You know, because I'm concentrating. On the lecture. Like you asked.**_

_Smooth, _he thought.

* * *

Petra watched Auruo scribble in her notes, crossing out a long line of his reply until it was impossible to see what he'd written. She made a study of him, because while he was otherwise occupied she could get away with it. He gently slid the notebook back to her, and she saw that he swallowed hard.

_** Nah, don't be. Just kind of distracted, I guess.**_

_By?_

He frowned, pushing a messy lock of hair out of his eyes.

_** Everything. **_

_What's everything?_

_** For one thing, Instructor Hall has got to be speaking in a language I don't know, because I can't understand a **__**fucking**__** word she says. Pretty sure Konrad's playing with one of his **__**goddamn **__**knives. Axel's snoring in my ear. Lukas keeps bugging Kirsten and looking back because he wants Axel to notice him being a **__**jackass.**__** Gretchen keeps whipping her head around because she thinks it's doing us all a big **__**fucking **__**favor. There's too much going on, and I have to just ignore it all and focus on an instructor I can't understand, while she lectures herself hoarse about stuff I don't care about. **_

An odd, cold feeling gripped Petra. She looked up at Gretchen, who was indeed tossing her lovely golden hair over her shoulder at that moment, her ankles crossed gracefully, pen dangling from negligent fingers. She was the very picture of careless beauty, and Petra realized it deeply annoyed her that Auruo noticed this.

_ Is she doing you some big favor?_

_**Who, Gretchen? **_

His expression turned incredulous when she nodded.

_**Can you read? I just said it was distracting.**_

_You can be distracted by things you like, you know._

For some reason, this embarrassed him; a faint blush rose in his cheeks.

_**Well I don't like it. I think she looks pretty stupid, if I'm being honest. Like a horse.**_

_A horse?_

_**Yeah, you know. Like how they toss their heads when flies bother them or their manes get in their faces. It looks ridiculous.**_

_ I've done this before._

_**You have? **_

She would never admit this, but it bothered her that he didn't notice.

_I think everyone does it. _

_**You see me tossing my head like a f**__**ucking**__** ponce? **_

_ You must have. _

_**ANYWAYS.**__** Maybe she's not doing it on purpose and I'm being an asshole. But it annoys me, just like everything annoys me today, I guess.**_

She frowned, hurt and trying not to show it.

_ Am I annoying you?_

He shook his head vehemently.

_**Everything annoys me except for you.**_

_ Really? I'm not nagging you to death or anything?_

_**It's to the point where I worry when you're not nagging. **_

She watched his blush deepen, the tips of his ears turning red, and had to resist the sudden, visceral urge to hold his hand. She wouldn't, of course. She couldn't. Months later, she was still not convinced of Wil's position – that he was in love with her, that he adored her, that he wanted her. It was ridiculous, wishful thinking; something that she both wanted and desperately feared. She knew him well enough to know that he reacted this way because he was awkward and uncomfortable with admitting anything he felt, even the most platonic things, so she wouldn't read into it.

_That'll never happen. Not until you prove you can survive without helpful reminders._

_**Oh, is that what we're calling your nagging now? Helpful reminders! What a nice way of putting it.**_

_You're terrible._

_**So you like to say.**_

They lapsed into attentiveness when Instructor Hall glanced toward them again, though this time she was the one feverishly scribbling in her notebook. Auruo put his head in his arms again and watched the snow fall outside the window.

All in all, they were nearly experts at surreptitiously talking to each other during lecture; nearly a year had passed since their training had started and they hadn't been caught once. She sat to his left because he was left handed and she was right, so they could merely nudge her notebook back and forth without being overly obvious. And she wasn't a totally irresponsible student – she gathered what she could and compared notes with Martin in the evenings – but Auruo was a distraction she could not seem to resist. And after some reflection, she realized that they spent their lectures talking through notebooks because this was the only way they could talk privately, without Axel jabbing him in the ribs or Wil whispering in her ear, listening to every word they said. It was the only way they could be alone, just like before.

Not that she resented their friends. She loved them, and she knew Auruo did too – in his own, grudging way.

Auruo sighed, stretching lower. One hand dangled off the end of their desk, twitching idly as he watched the snowfall slowly come to a stop. He had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows, and she found herself staring at his bare forearm, counting the large freckles there.

_Stop being weird, weirdo, _she coached herself, scribbling him a quick note to distract herself.

_Are you looking forward to first Interim? _

She expected a snarky answer, but he surprised her with an earnest grin.

_**Well, I mean, I'm looking forward to starting the real stuff after Interim. But yeah. It'll be nice to see my family. Benoit's been flipping his shit in his letters, can't shut up about it. **_

_ That's really sweet._

_**Don't you **__**fucking**__** start.**_

She bit her lip to keep from laughing.

_Is he still mad at Christophe for tattling on him? _

_**For climbing, yeah. I don't really blame him. Mom probably chewed his ear off for a whole week. She's probably still chewing his ear off. If you listen really hard, you can hear the lecture from here.**_

_I think I'm on your mom's side this time. He could really get hurt climbing around like that. And she just had a baby – they could try not being so stressful and inconsiderate._

_**Why am I not surprised that you're on her side? **_

_She's a good person, and the most patient, long-suffering woman alive. Especially considering she has all you horrible boys to deal with. You should give her more credit. _

_**Should we now?**_

_Yes. In fact, we should all aspire to be more like your mom. _

_**All right, I get the picture. **_

_ Good._

_**She's going to love having you back. I'm pretty sure she likes you more than me.**_

_You know that isn't true._

_**Do I? Benoit told me that I shouldn't bother coming back at all if you don't visit every day. Even my own **__**goddamn**__** brothers like you more. **_

_I think he was joking, Auruo._

_**Benoit doesn't joke about anything. He's the most serious six year old alive. **_

_ Regardless, I'm pretty sure he was joking about this. He adores you. _

To her delight, Auruo shrugged, embarrassed.

_**Yeah, well. All right. I mean, I don't blame them. You are more likable. **_

_You said it, not me._

_**I bet you anything he remembers the first time you came around. That's why he's so attached. You were the only one who could get him to stop crying. You and your hair. **_

She smiled at the memory.

_He was such a cute baby. All your brothers were cute babies. I bet the new baby is cute too._

_** You would think babies are cute.**_

_ They are! Those little hands and feet. Cute little faces. _

_**They kind of freak me out. **_

_Why?_

_**I don't know!**_

_Are you saying that you're not at all excited to meet your new brother?_

_**No, I am. I guess. I will be if he doesn't cry and throw up on me the whole time.**_

_Don't even pretend that you won't adore him. _

_**Geez. Why ask if you know the answer?**_

_Because getting you to admit you're a giant sap who loves his family is one of my favorite things to do._

_**THIS CONVERSATION IS OVER.**_

With that, he faced forward and refused to look at her, even when she nudged his arm with the corner of the notebook. She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing, for his face had turned a furious red, and the effect was both ridiculous and charming.

_Auruo._

_ Hey, come on. I'm just teasing._

_ Auruoooooooooo._

_ So now you can pay attention to the lecture._

_ You are such a baby, you know that? _

He refused to accept any of these messages, so she decided to try a different approach. Below their conversation, she drew a little picture of him with the grumpiest expression she could manage, complete with messy hair, furrowed brows, and arms crossed tightly over his chest. She doodled a little squiggly storm cloud over his head, and added the caption '_I'm Cool, NOT Sweet!'_ He would either hate it and refuse to speak to her for the rest of the day, or it would make him laugh. There was never any middle ground with Auruo.

She insistently poked his arm with the notebook until he scowled at her, then scowled down at the page. His brows furrowed even lower as he studied the drawing. She nodded encouragingly and whispered, "_It's you!" _

She waited. Met his scowl head on. The longer his silence went, the more she feared that she had really upset him, that she'd made a joke she had no right to. She had resigned herself to a day of irritated, grouchy Auruo when she saw his lips twitch. He tried to fight it, but before he could stop himself he'd snorted with laughter, ducking his head to hide how amused he was, and she found him so completely, utterly charming that it made her dizzy.

_**You think you're funny huh, Petra Ral.**_

_I know I am._

He didn't respond to this; instead, she watched him sketch a companion to her drawing. He was no artist, that was fore sure – the best he could manage was a stick figure with its hands on hips, a similarly grumpy expression on its face. She realized he was drawing her when he added her braid (or what she assumed was her braid, as it looked more like a misshapen rope attached to her head than any braid she'd ever seen). He finished the sketch with a weird little crown on her head, jotted some quick speech bubbles and a caption, and slid the notebook back to her with a very satisfied grin.

She eyed the caption. "_La Reine des Chipies?"_

"Shh!"

Right, they were still in class. She eyed the speech bubbles; her avatar proclaimed '_Pay attention in class!' 'Don't swear so much!' 'Sit up straight!' 'Be nice to your mother!' _and she might have gotten irritated with the drawing if she hadn't said those very things in this very conversation.

_Ha ha._

_**Get it? That's you. **_

_Yeah, I got it._

_**Queen of the Nags. **_

_What an incredible honor._

_**Right?**_

_I'm delighted that you consider me first of the nags in your life._

For some inexplicable reason, this embarrassed him. He shrugged and ducked his head again, this time to try and conceal his blush, and she wondered why this would fluster him so badly. He'd been the one to call her queen of the nags; he'd written it out and even translated, which was something he rarely ever did when speaking French. (She still had no idea what her favorite song meant, or even what it was about). Wil's theory came back to her in that moment, and she wondered; was this more than Auruo's old affliction? Was it instead some indication that he adored her just as deeply as she did him? It couldn't be … but still, she wondered.

She didn't have a chance to process this, or even to respond; at that moment Instructor Hall set down her notes and said the single most wonderful configuration of words at that moment: "We'll break now for lunch. And I believe after, the Commandant will want to resume your sprint trials."

Half the class groaned, mutters of '_In the snow?!' _filling the room, but Auruo broke into one of his earnest grins, so rarely seen. "Thank god," he muttered, throwing his cloak around his shoulders.

"You want to run in the snow?" Martin asked him as he stowed his copious notes, his expression incredulous.

"Sure, why not?" Auruo said. "Anything's better than sitting around all day."

Axel clapped him on the shoulder, and nearly sent him sprawling. "You said it," he said with a grin.

Their group filed out of the classroom and into the snow, and she watched as Auruo and Martin conferred, the former gesturing expansively as he spoke.

Petra didn't know if she agreed with what Auruo had said. She probably should have. She would if her mind was in the right place. She was fast and skilled, and she often excelled at the physical aspects of their training, so an afternoon of sprint trials and other physical activity wouldn't be much of a hardship. But she hadn't found this lecture to be so awful, cooped up in a warm classroom, sitting next to someone she could not seem to help adoring, speaking to him through notebooks. And she completely despised this about herself, despised that all it took to unsettle her was a throwaway comment that probably had nothing to do with her, but she couldn't help it – the fact that he seemed to find their morning so intolerable hurt her deeply.

Wil slipped her arm through Petra's just as Axel shoved a handful of snow down the back of Auruo's shirt. And she laughed along with everyone, but her heart wasn't in it. As Auruo flailed, shouting curses as loud as he could, she realized that Wil couldn't have been more wrong.

* * *

That night, the six of them sat in their corner of the common room, nursing wind-chapped cheeks and frozen extremities. The Commandant had indeed worked them the whole afternoon, driving them through the forested grounds outside the enclosure, through drifts that were as high as their knees in some places. Auruo was exhausted, but it was the good kind – the kind that involved a heavy feeling in his limbs and promised a night of good sleep ahead.

Martin was in far worse shape; he huddled into a tight ball, trying to work warmth and feeling back into his fingers. "I'll never be able to play again," he moaned, rubbing his hands together and wistfully eying his violin case.

"Give it time," Axel told him. "You did all right today."

That was putting it nicely, and everyone knew it – Martin had lagged behind the pack and earned nearly an hour's worth of verbal abuse from the Commandant.

Martin bit his lip. "It's been an hour and I still can't feel my hands."

Axel pondered this for half a second before beckoning to Oskar, leaning close to whisper in his ear. Auruo was used to these exchanges by now; Oskar had not once said a word in front of them, but according to Axel he was incredibly articulate. Auruo didn't know about that, but it was true that Oskar could usually make his position on a matter known through a few well-chosen quirks of his expression.

Axel pressed his lips to Oskar's neck with a grin, and with that Oskar broke away, pushing out into the freezing darkness. "Give him a moment," Axel said easily. "He'll find you something."

"You didn't ask him to steal again," Martin said, frowning.

"It's not stealing if it already technically belongs to us."

"It doesn't _technically _belong to us, it belongs to the Commandant, and he _gives_ it to us," Auruo cut in.

Axel waved his hand, unconcerned. "Details."

Wil shook her head. "One of these days he's going to be caught, and I'm going to laugh at you both. In fact, I think I'm just going to distance myself from this whole thing, so when it blows up in your face I'm nowhere close to being involved."

"You are a true friend, Wilhelmina. And _in fact," _he said, mocking her tone, "we'll see how that position holds up when you see what my dear Oskar brings back."

"Hmph." Wil tugged on the end of Petra's braid, and the two of them went to sit next to the stove furnace, wedging in between Fritz and Lukas, who seemed more than thrilled with this development. Lukas inched so close to Petra that she'd practically flattened herself against Wil to keep from touching him, and Auruo scowled.

"Ah, cool off, Boss," Axel said, noticing his expression. "She'll knock him out if he tries anything."

"Whatever," he shrugged, trying to hide how irritated he was that Axel had read his mind. "You know that dumbshit's just trying to get your attention, anyway."

"Lukas? Aw." Axel waved this away too, as he was discussing a concept and not a person. "He's not really my type. Maybe if he was a little more like you."

Auruo wasn't impressed by this – after a year of Axel's indiscriminate flirting, he'd gotten pretty used to the whole song and dance. "I'm sure."

Martin was quiet for a moment, and Auruo recognized his expression as the one he wore when weighing circumspection with his rabid curiosity. "So does Oskar ... do that too?" he finally managed.

"Do what?"

"Throw himself at anything with legs," Auruo supplied.

Axel shrugged unconcernedly. "He could if he wanted to."

"And you don't have a problem with that?"

"Should I?"

Auruo stared at him incredulously. "Really. So if Oskar up and decided that he wanted to fuck… I don't know, that guy over there. The one with the big nose. Are you seriously telling me you wouldn't get jealous at all?"

"I wouldn't," Axel said, his expression sunny. "I mean, it hasn't happened yet. But if it did, I wouldn't care."

"You wouldn't be worried he'd start preferring big nose guy over you."

"Even if we only slept with each other, he could just as easily look at someone else and decide he liked them better." Axel shrugged again. "It's not like being monogamous offers you any protection in that regard."

Auruo hadn't thought of it that way, and wasn't exactly sure he liked the implication. "I should probably be asking Oskar these questions. He's the one who has to watch you throw yourself at anything with legs."

"Well, come on now." Axel's grin became a little wicked. "I'd like someone without legs just as much. If I found them interesting."

Auruo shook his head.

"What is it now, Boss?"

"Don't call me that," Auruo said reflexively. "I just don't get your relationship."

"You're the one I don't get. Wouldn't you like to share something with anyone who catches your eye?"

"No one does that," Auruo muttered, glancing at Petra before looking away.

Axel frowned at him. "See, that's really weird."

"You're really weird."

From what Auruo could gather, Axel really did adore Oskar, just as he adored anyone who caught his eye – his proclivities did not result in a need for distraction, and instead were a real attempt to connect with people he genuinely liked. Which was all right, in Auruo's opinion. Not really to his taste, but there it was.

Oskar returned not long after; pink cheeked, his dark blond hair tousled by the wind, with a suspect bundle cradled under his coat. He turned his back on the rest of the room, and with a scary grin revealed the spoils of his crime; a loaf of bread, some cheese, and a steaming mug of –it couldn't be –

"_Hot chocolate?!" _Martin wheezed.

Oskar only put his fingers to his lips, his grin widening. How he'd managed to come by _real hot chocolate _and not spill a drop was anyone's guess.

"Easy, there," Axel said, drawing close. "Nice and quiet. That ought to warm you up, don't you think?"

Martin nodded dumbly and took the offered mug with shaking hands. Auruo didn't blame him – he'd had hot chocolate only once in his life, and it was something he wouldn't forget.

There was a scuffle behind him, and the next thing he knew Wil had crammed herself into their semi-circle, dragging a reluctant Petra behind her. "Make room," Wil said. "Let's see what we're accessory to this time. Come on, Auruo – move your bony ass."

He would have retorted had Wil not wedged Petra next to him at that moment, and the retort died in his throat. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so close to her, close enough to touch – probably when they were still kids, and he wasn't cursed with intrusive thoughts about her naked body against his. He tried not to flinch or move or breathe, and could only manage a weak grin when she shot him an apologetic look.

"Oskar, you didn't," Wil breathed.

"_Hot chocolate!?" _Petra gasped.

"You guys need to put a lid on it," Axel said with a nervous look over his shoulder. "Just drink it quick before one of these nosy assholes bust us."

"I can't drink it all," Martin said. "It's not right."

"Are you seriously full from dinner? You should have said something! I wouldn't have had Oskar get you some –"

"No, no," Martin said, his trembling hands wrapped around the hot mug. "It just wouldn't be right. You all should have some too."

If ever there was a moment indicative of Martin's character, this was it – holding a delicacy between his frozen hands, and his only thought was to share with his friends. "Ah, geez," Auruo said, uncomfortable with the gesture. "I mean, it's your fuckin' hot chocolate."

"_Will you keep it down?!" _Axel hissed. "But yeah, Boss is right."

"Either you all have some, or I'll have none," Martin said, a stubborn little wrinkle forming between his brows.

"Fine, fine," Axel said, but he grinned fondly. "You lunatic."

Satisfied, Martin took a tiny sip, pressing his lips together as he savored the taste before passing the mug to Oskar. And so it went for all of them – taking sips of the hot chocolate until the mug was empty. Wil actually made a strangled noise of pleasure when she swallowed, her fingers flying to her lips. At Axel's amused look, she sputtered, "I've never had it before!"

"Right, right."

"I'm serious! It's so _sweet!" _

"Well, there is that. Though I'm sure you'd go for salty too."

Wil's eyes flashed. "I'd go for anything," she snapped, shoving the mug into Auruo's hands. And there wasn't really any question what they were talking about.

Auruo stared at them, repulsed. "You guys are fuckin' disgusting."

"Goddammit Boss, drink the hot chocolate or we're skipping you."

"Yeah, _Boss," _Wil added. "Get on with it."

"There better not be any backwash in this," Auruo muttered.

"_BOSS!"_

"Fine, fine. Keep your fuckin' hair on."

He wasn't really sure he wanted to share a mug of anything with these degenerates, but then again hot chocolate was something only rich people got to enjoy on a regular basis, and who knew when he'd have the chance for it again. He took the smallest sip possible, and tried not to react outwardly in any way when the incredible flavor burst across his tongue. Had he been alone, he'd have probably guzzled the whole thing in two seconds; as it was, he was pressed shoulder to shoulder with his favorite person on the planet, and the thought of short-changing her upset him.

He passed Petra the mug, careful not to touch her hands (because he knew that if he did he'd probably jump and spill the rest of the goddamn hot chocolate all over her arms, which would probably end up burning her, and he'd never forgive himself).

And he tried not to stare. He really did. He knew it was creepy and weird, and he was so ridiculously awkward that even he had trouble dealing with it, but he watched as she drank. Watched her lips, her closed eyes, watched her swallow, watched as a faint rush of color flooded her cheeks, and he remembered the last time they had done this –sitting on his front stoop, passing a steaming mug back and forth until it was empty. And he thought it now as he had then; she was so unbearably beautiful.

He nearly fell over when she looked up at him first, with a smile like sunlight. "It's just like -!"

"I was just thinking that!" he said, relieved.

"Just like …?" Axel prompted.

Petra shrugged a little, her shoulders brushing against his. "Ah, never mind."

And he couldn't exactly articulate why her reply made him so happy. Maybe because she was beautiful, or because she was touching him in the only way she ever would (and he was grateful, he'd keep being grateful his whole lousy life). Maybe because that memory would stay between them – that though it was a small thing, one of many they had, she shared the impulse to keep them close.

They passed the mug around again until not even the dregs remained, and split the bread and cheese amongst themselves, talking until curfew. And as he watched Petra laugh, as he watched Wil twist her hair into a knot at the back of her neck, Auruo felt warm in a way that had nothing to do with the hot chocolate.


End file.
